Loneliness
by Piccolo999
Summary: Harry and Hermione are both lonely children. They meet at Hogwarts and form a strong bond of friendship, with undercurrents of love.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** I wrote this ages ago as I prologue to a potential Harry Potter story. Have a vague idea of what I want to do with it, but like most things I never got around to writing anymore. Maybe if I get some interest I might write more. Could do with some motivation these days because I'm really struggling with my other stories.

Loneliness

There was a silence in the Headmaster of Hogwart's Office. The half-life portraits on the walls were silent. Fawkes the Phoenix was silent. Two figures stood across from each other, both of them silent. This was a silence borne on the wings of bad news. The taller, older figure - the Headmaster - held a crumpled note in his fist. The smaller figure, a woman old, but sturdy, looked as if she had been told her family had been burned alive. That was close to the truth, in fact, because a family had been burned alive. It just was not hers.

Finally, the old woman broke the silence.

'It can't be true Albus,' she said, heartbroken.

Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, gave a wearied sigh and let the piece of paper fall from his grasp. It landed, crumpled, on his desk. 'It is true, Minerva,' he said. There was a pause – more silence. 'Harry Potter set fire to his Aunt and Uncles house last night. The fire was unstoppable. The Muggle firefighters tried to stop the blaze, but they knew not what they truly dealt with. There were no survivors, save for young Harry himself. He alone remained unharmed. The Muggles found him wandering the blackened ruins.'

'Why would he do such a thing?' Minerva McGonagall couldn't keep the horror from her voice.

Dumbledore turned from her gaze guiltily.

'Albus?' Minerva asked curiously.

Dumbledore embraced the silence, unwilling to break it.

'Why don't you tell her,' one of the portraits said snidely, 'tell her what you did Dumbledore.'

Albus Dumbledore turned to face the portrait with a terrifying fury. 'Be silent Phineas!'

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus was unfazed by Dumbledore's anger. He gave the current Headmaster of Hogwarts a smug look, knowing his words would force Dumbledore's hand.

'Albus?' Minerva's voice cut through the tense stare down between Headmaster and portrait. 'What did you do?'

Dumbledore lowered his head, ashamed. 'Nothing,' he said quietly. 'I did nothing.'

Minerva McGonagall furrowed her brow. 'I'm not sure I understand…'

'I did nothing, Minerva.' When she went to open her mouth to query further, Dumbledore spoke again. 'I sat by and did nothing. I watched as Harry was abused by his family.'

McGonagall stared in shock.

'I could have stopped it, but I didn't. I feared to break the protective magic Lily blessed us with, and so consigned the boy to a childhood of neglect and abuse. Now it's too late.'

'Then it was forced,' McGonagall said after much thought. 'Harry was pushed to protect himself?'

'No. It was not self-defence. Not directly. Harry dreamt of burning his family, and so his magic made it a reality. He woke to the carnage his dreams had wrought.'

Minerva shuddered at the thought. 'What has happened to the boy?'

'The Muggles have taken him. What they will do, I know not.'

'And what will we do?'

Dumbledore was silent one last time. This silence stretched on and on. It was a silence of inaction rather than of reality. Dumbledore was silent for close to four years. Then, once Harry turned eleven, the silence was broken.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** Here's the next chapter. Marvellously, I've actually got some motivation to continue this. I don't want to jinx it, but let's hope it lasts. As you should realise, this story is AU. Harry and Hermione are vastly different people than they are in the books. Nevertheless, I hope you like.

Loneliness

The train to Hogwarts had departed already, yet Hermione Granger had yet to find a place to set her things and settle in for the journey. Some compartments overflowed with kids, others not so much, but Hermione didn't feel welcome in any of them, nor would she choose to sit in them if she did. She was what most would call a lonely child. As a young child she had never played with the other kids. In school she set herself apart from everyone and didn't make a single friend. On the playground, she would find a quiet spot and sit alone to read her books. Even her parents didn't know her that well. She spoke minimally to them and other adults, which some might consider a marked improvement over her absolute refusal to engage with others kids her age.

It wasn't that Hermione didn't want friends her own age. When people would call her a lonely child, they were spot on. She often cried silent tears at night, desperate for someone to reach out to and hold. Her need was strong, and yet when day came and she had the chance to connect with other kids, anybody, she just couldn't. Her father, whom she lived with, was often busy with work and didn't have much time for her. He also wasn't the cuddly, touchy feely type. Her mother saw her infrequently, once every two weeks, and sometimes she missed her scheduled appointments because she was hung over or passed out somewhere.

When Hermione had received her Hogwarts letter, she had been thrilled at this new avenue into which she could explore and learn, and so, despite her fathers apprehension, she had demanded to be allowed to go.

There was one final compartment she had left to check. Hoping this one was empty; Hermione opened the door a crack and peeked inside. She saw a pair of legs stretched out, and that was enough for her. Heart racing, she pulled the door closed as silently as possible and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

'They're fourth year Slytherin's.' Hermione jumped when the person behind her spoke. She turned to face the speaker and clutched the handle of her trunk tightly. The speaker was a boy her own age, small, skinny, wearing scruffy looking trousers and shirt with the collar turned up. His glasses had been broken and repaired with tape. Dark unruly hair fell to cover his forehead and obscure his eyes. He was sat on the floor next to his trunk, spinning his wand in his hand. 'They don't want first years in their compartment. 'Speshly not me.'

Hermione looked at the boy and felt her throat go dry. She clutched her trunk even tighter.

'Are you Muggleborn? You are, ain't you?'

The boy spun his wand and flipped it in the air, catching it as it came back down and pointing it at her. The tip sparked and a small flame flickered to life. Hermione jumped again and looked nervously at the flame, transfixed. The boy noticed her anxiety and a look of recognition crossed his face. He flicked his wand and the flame guttered out. With a quick motion he was on his feet and stowing his wand behind his back. His raised his hands as he stepped towards her.

'Erm, sorry,' he said, brushing a hand across his fringe. Hermione saw a flash of startling emerald green eyes. 'My name's Harry Potter. What's yours?'

Hermione opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She had read about Harry Potter - the Boy-Who-Lived. He was in a few of the books she had picked up as extra curricular reading. In the older volumes he was spoken of in an admiring light, praised as the boy who had done what no other wizard could do, that being ridding the wizarding world of it's greatest threat – the Dark Lord Voldemort. However, in one volume she had, this one only a few years old, Harry was spoken of in a not so flattering way. This author raised doubts as to Harry's nature, and compared him to the very evil he was once praised for destroying. The book claimed that Harry had burned his relatives, his aunt, uncle and cousin, alive, and that since that day he had been held in a Muggle child psychiatric institution.

'What's wrong?' Harry asked. Hermione looked away from him, down at her feet. 'You don't know your name…?' This last part was said with a slightly teasing tone. Hermione kept her eyes on the tips of her shinny black shoes. 'Can't you speak?' When he got no reply, Harry cleared his throat. 'Oh. I've never met a mute before.'

Hermione glanced up at him. Her cheeks felt hot from the faint blush on her face.

'It's okay,' Harry said, and offered his hand.

Hermione looked at it, and then shook her head furiously.

Harry looked confused. 'I don't have a disease or anything.' When she made no move to take his hand, he retracted it and stuffed it safely away in his pocket, as if it were a lethal weapon. 'Okay, so you don't like to touch people either? Will you at least sit with me?'

Hermione had to think about it. This boy could be dangerous, as the book she had read indicated. He had supposedly burnt his family alive. He was confident, in a odd kind of way. Yet strangely, she did not feel that threatened by him. He seemed isolated from others around himself, because here he was, sitting alone, just like she did.

'I promise I won't try to touch you,' Harry said, smiling a smile that was so reassuring and kind that she couldn't help but nod and give in to his request. She did, however, strategically place her trunk between his body and hers, just in case.

Harry spoke to her, his voice soft, talking about the wizarding world, things he had read and seen, other wizards he had encountered. He kept up a steady stream of dialogue, not once asking her anything, just letting her listen. Hermione began to relax a little, and kept stealing little glances sideways at this boy who had done more to penetrate her walls so quickly than anyone her age ever had before. He was an enigma, so different from what she had imagined when she had read about him. Most children her own age, when faced with her absolutely silence and unwillingness to touch, simply gave her up as a lost cause, too difficult to deal with. Not Harry. Why did he try? Why would he want to try? She offered nothing, and yet he didn't seem to mind. He was still talking to her, as if they were having some kind of conversation. And he was smiling, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Who was this boy? This Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Boy-Who-Burnt-His-Family-Alive, the Boy-Who-Tried-To-Befriend-Hermione-Granger.

* * *

Harry sat with her for the entire train journey, sat with her in the boat that took them to the magical school Hogwarts, and stayed close beside her (although not too close) as they made their way into the Great Hall and up to the front. Feeling the eyes of many of the older students on her, Hermione folded her arms across her chest and hunched down, hiding behind her long curly hair. She took deep, even breaths as she slowly made her way forward, counting the steps to distract herself - one, two, three, four. She knew coming here to this unknown place was going to be tough. She had expected it and prepared for it as best she could, but even so, the feeling was nearly overwhelming, far more than she could ever have expected.

'It's okay,' Harry whispered behind her, noticing her behaviour.

Hermione wasn't really reassured, but she appreciated the effort. The professor leading them, an old witch named McGonagall, instructed them to form a line in front of the other professors. Professor McGonagall placed a single stool before them, upon which she set a scruffy, old looking hat. Hermione came to the conclusion that this must be the Sorting ceremony she had read about, and as if to confirm her thoughts, Professor McGongall began to speak and explain how each child would come forth, sit on the stool and place the hat upon their head.

As the ceremony began, Hermione thought back to all she had read about Hogwarts and it's houses. Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, and loyalty. Gryffindor values bravery and chivalry. Ravenclaw values intelligence and wit – Hermiome suspected that would be were she would end up. Slytherin values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness – it was also notable to mention that most Dark Wizards, such as Lord Voldemort, had been a member of Slytherin.

'Granger, Hermione!'

So soon, it was her turn to enter the spotlight and be sorted. Hermione steadied herself, and then, counting the steps again, she made her way forward to sit on the stool and place the hat on her head.

'Aaah, aren't you an interesting little bunny,' a voice whispered in her ear. 'Hmm. Yes, I sense a great deal of intelligence in you. It's clear to me that you could only belong in one house, and that would be RAVENCLAW!' This last was shouted out loud.

Hermione took the hat off as the Great Hall gave her a loud round of applause. She blushed as she rushed to quickly take a seat at the Ravenclaw table. She chose a seat as far away from the crowd as she could, so that no one could pat her on the back, and kept her eyes down on the table before her as the rest of the house welcomed her. Luckily, their attention was quickly caught up again as the Sorting ceremony resumed.

Hermione lost herself in her thoughts until, 'Potter, Harry!' was called and the Great Hall fell deathly silent. She raised her head just a little to sneak a glance at the scruffy boy who had done his best to befriend her on the train. He moved calmly up to the stool, ignoring the rest of the room. As he pulled the hat down onto his head, Hermione idly wondered which house Harry might end up in. She held her breath, like the rest of the Great Hall, as Harry sat on the stool for what felt like a very long time.

Finally, the silence was broken, and a deafening roar broke out in the room as the hat proclaimed: 'SLYTHERIN!'


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** Shorter chapter this time. Length will probably vary a lot depending on what I want to do with the chapter, etc. Complain and I'll put a voodoo curse on you :P kidding. Sorta. Enjoy!

Loneliness

The welcoming feast had ended hours ago, the first years had been shown to their homes away from home, the older students had fallen into bed after catching up with their dormitory mates, and most of the professors had decided to call it a night, well aware of the early start they would have tomorrow.

Two wizards, however, had not yet succumbed to the allure of their pillows, and instead met to discuss a worrisome portent. Harry Potter had been sorted into Slytherin.

Severus Snape stood by the fire, watching it's flickering flames, his back to the Headmaster. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his eyes locked on the back of his colleague, peering over the rim of his spectacles.

'You will remember,' Dumbledore said gravely, 'I have been here before. Tom Riddle showed many of the signs that young Harry has already displayed. Both of them were orphaned early in life. Both of them possessed a dangerous, reckless magical energy and an obsession with theft and destruction of property. This new development has not helped to allay my fears.'

Severus Snape was still as stone, his posture tense.

Dumbledore let out a weary sigh. 'Severus, I know how you feel, but I have been in this position before, and I promised myself I would not make the same mistake I made with Tom Riddle.'

When Snape spoke, his voice was devoid of emotion. 'You would kill the boy?' He laughed, sharp and mocking. 'Or I suppose you would have me do it? He is one of my students now. It would be easy to sneak into his dormitory at night and cast one silent Killing Curse. Is that what you want Albus?'

Dumbledore looked horrified. 'What I want is for Harry to be a peaceful, well-adjusted child. He is not, however, and we must deal with this, but do not think for one second that I want this Severus.'

'Have you even considered the prophecy?'

'I have.'

'Then how can we do it? Even if the boy is destined to become a dark wizard, how can we kill him, knowing he is the only one capable of truly ending the Dark Lord?'

'Prophecies are not set in stone,' Dumbledore explained. 'They are fickle things. I cannot leave it to chance. If we let Harry be, and he does become a dark wizard as I fear, then we will not only have to deal with Voldemort, but him as well. Can you imagine the destruction those two would wreak on the wizarding world? No, Severus, it is best we end it now. Tonight.'

'I won't do it,' Snape said emphatically.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but Snape cut him off before he could.

'You're being hasty. You think that the boy is too much of a threat, but he is still just that, a boy. We have time. You do not need to make this decision now. Wait. I beg of you. Do not do this thing now!'

'And how long would you have me wait? A week? Two? A year? When do we decide Severus? When it's too late?'

Severus Snape was silent for nearly a minute, his mind a whirl of thoughts. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and resigned. 'A year. Give the boy a year.'

'And if at the end of this year he shows no sign of hope?'

A longer silence. Dumbledore waited. Snape ground his teeth as he spoke, 'we kill him.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** This chapter was slightly delayed due to the Dark Knight Rises. I make no apologies. :P Enjoy.

Loneliness

It had been a little over a week since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts. His first few days he had used to familiarise himself with his new surroundings, exulting in his new found freedom. The castle and its grounds were much larger than the children's wing of Waltham's psychiatric hospital. When not in class, he took to roaming the corridors, adapting to the strange behaviour of the moving staircases, noting the numerous half-alive portraits, creating a virtual map of Hogwarts within his own mind.

At night he would use a handy spell he had found in one of his books, a charm that alerted him to the presence of others, allowing him to move through the castle at night and avoid detection. If he was particularly bored, he had fun sneaking into classrooms and pilfering random objects – a fancy golden quill from McGonagall, a rare book of charms left carelessly on Flitwick's desk, whatever he fancied at the time. Of course, he was smart enough to hide these objects in a safe place. One of his first acts when he arrived at Hogwarts was to find a hiding place for his collectables. He'd chosen a specific wall near the Hufflepuff common room, magicked lose a piece of the wall, and crated his own little incognito safe. Just in case anyone came asking, and they did, he made sure they couldn't prove anything.

It was only his second day at Hogwarts when he was summoned to the Headmaster's office. The old wizard who had "rescued" him from the mental hospital reminded him of the promise he had made Harry make before giving him his Hogwarts letter – that Harry must never steal again. Harry lied and played up his innocence and with no proof, Dumbledore was forced to allow him to go, albeit grudgingly.

By the end of the third night, Harry had a pretty complete map of Hogwarts in his head, or at least, a complete map of all the obvious locations. An old castle like this, Harry was sure held some secrets, and he was determined to find them all.

By far the most intriguing thing to happen to him all week was his first meeting with his Potions Master – Severus Snape. The wizard picked him out from all of the students during their very first lesson, asking him some basic, and some not so basic, questions regarding Potions. Harry had done lots of studying prior to arriving at Hogwarts, so he was more than prepared, answering all three correctly. Snape made no acknowledgement of his accomplishment, but simply moved on, his face betraying no emotion. And yet Harry sensed something. Severus Snape was definitely assessing him. Why? He did not know. Yet. Snape may have some kind of interest in him, Harry decided, but now Harry had an interest in his Potions Master.

The rest of the week was like a chess match between the two, silent, subtle and totally unrecognisable to others, but it was there. Snape often asked him specifically for answers to questions during Potions, as if trying to catch him in checkmate, yet Harry always had the way out. Snape would watch him surreptitiously, but Harry was always aware. He could feel the wizards eyes on him. When Snape looked away, Harry would look up and scrutinise his head of house in return.

The question, of course, was why? Why did this particular wizard have so much interest in him? It couldn't just be the fact that he was supposedly famous. No one else looked at him so intently, questioned him so rigorously. People looked, they whispered, but none of them took it to the level this Severus Snape took. So why? Unanswered questions infuriated Harry, so he vowed to find the answer.

It was a fine Sunday evening and most of the Hogwarts students had taken to roaming the grounds, some of the older ones playing a game called Quidditch, others just lounging in the sun, the younger students running around and exploring. Harry was one of the few that remained inside that day. He was looking for someone. Someone who was most definitely not outside with the others. She was the brown haired girl he had met on the train. He had learnt her name during the first class they shared – Potions – when Snape called her name and she raised her hand meekly. Snape had called her name again, and when he got no response, he looked up, saw her hand, scowled, and then moved on. Her name?

Hermione Granger. Harry smiled just thinking it. She was perhaps the most damaged person in Hogwarts, next to him of course, and he was determined to befriend her.

Harry found her in the library, tucked away in the back. She was bent over a piece of parchment; energetically scribbling away with her quill, scratch scratch scratch without a pause. Harry watched her for several minutes, hidden in the stacks, peering between the gaps in the bookshelves. All alone, she seemed so relaxed and at peace. She was even smiling as she worked. It was a nice sight, and he almost hated to break it, but he wasn't going to make her trust him by stalking her from the shadows.

'Hi,' Harry said, appearing from behind the stacks and walking slowly towards her.

Hermione gave a little squeak and looked up like a startled little rabbit, eyes wide. She stared at him apprehensively.

Harry smiled in what he hoped was a soothing way and continued his slow approach. 'It's okay,' he said, 'I just saw you studying and thought I'd come over and sit with you. You don't mind, do you? I've got plenty of homework I need to do as well.'

Hermione said not a word, but Harry didn't expect her to. She watched him as he pulled out a chair across the table from her. He didn't want to sit too close. She obviously valued her personal space. He pulled out his books, parchment and quill while she stared, then gave her one last reassuring smile before lowering his head and getting to work. Or at least, he pretended to work, but he was actually sneakily watching Hermione watch him. He occasionally hummed, flipped a page, scribbled a note, but he kept one eye on the nervous girl across from him. After about five minutes, she seemed to relax a little, and lowered her own head to her books.

Harry smiled and got to work for real. They studied together for nearly three hours, neither saying a word the entire time. It was nearly time for the afternoon feast when Harry finally put away his books and stood up.

'Bye Hermione,' he said, giving her a little wave as he left.

Hermione only looked up and watched him leave.

It was the first of many study sessions they had over the following months.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** Another short chapter today. I think chapters will get longer once the story progresses, but like most things, I could be wrong lol. Either way, I'm going to try and keep getting them out at least every other day, if not one a day. As always, I hope you like.

Loneliness

Hermione loved the Ravenclaw common room. It was one of her most favourite places in Hogwarts. The circular room was large and airy, with many windows showing spectacular views of the mountains and landscape around the castle. The thing she loved most about it was the unspoken rule that if a person was seen with a book in hand, doing homework or studying in anyway, then they were to be left in peace. This allowed her to come here and sit and listen to the conversations in the common room as if she were actually a part of them, without fear that anyone would attempt to engage her.

On this particular afternoon she overheard a conversation between a few of her fellow classmates. Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, and Lisa Turpin sat at a nearby table, talking amongst themselves, seemingly unaware, or maybe just not caring, that she was at the next table.

They were talking about Harry Potter.

'I heard it wasn't just his family he burnt alive,' Michael Corner said. 'I heard he burnt down several other homes, with the families trapped inside and screaming for help!'

Lisa Turpin looked horrified, hand over her mouth. 'How horrible!'

'That's why they locked him away in that mental place,' Michael explained.

'Until Dumbledore let him out,' Anthony said, 'and put us all at risk. Potter is clearly a dark wizard.'

'I'm sure Professor Dumbledore knows what he's doing,' Terry Boot argued.

'But how could anyone want to do that?' Lisa was still transfixed on the idea that Harry had burnt all those people alive.

'Hello! I told you, he's a dark wizard. Like You-Know-Who. They're mental. They don't think like you and I.'

'You act like this is fact,' Terry Boot, the voice of reason, reminded everyone. 'We don't really know that he burnt all those people. It's just a rumour.'

'But we do know he burnt his family alive, so it's not really a stretch, is it? If he can do that to his family, he can burn some random people.'

'Let's talk about something else,' Lisa said, shuddering.

Hermione stopped listening after that. It wasn't the first time she had heard people talking about Harry. In the stories they told, he seemed like a monster, and yet she couldn't see him that way. Granted, she hadn't spoken to him, but she had spent many an evening sat with him, and he didn't seem like a monster. She was actually beginning to enjoy the times they spent together just studying. She was getting used to his quiet presence. He was… soothing.

The idea that this very same boy could have done those horrible things was unthinkable. Terry Boot was right. The stories about the other families were just rumours, but it was a fact that Harry had torched his families home with them trapped inside.

Hermione couldn't make the pieces fit. She couldn't connect the boy she knew to the stories they told. It just didn't make sense. Either Harry Potter was a very good actor, or there was more to the story. She was more inclined to believe the latter. Rather, she hoped it was the latter, because she didn't want the closest thing she had to a friend be a lie.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** Hmm, this chapter started one way, and ended in a place I really didn't anticipate. Ah well. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

Loneliness

Afternoon Potions had just finished and the class was emptying fast, many students anxious to get away from the imposing figure of Severus Snape. Harry was sorting through a few sheets of parchment, arranging them into order so that he wouldn't have to do it later. Unlike the other students, he didn't fear the Potions Master. As he flipped a sheet the right way up, he could feel Snape's eyes on him from the front of the classroom.

The room was now empty except for the two of them. Harry heard his teacher approaching as he continued to sort his things. Snape stopped in front of him, on the other side of his desk. Harry finished what he was doing and slipped the parchment into his bag, before looking up and meeting Snape's cold eyes.

'Professor?' Harry asked, his voice perfectly innocent sounding.

'How are you finding things in Slytherin House Potter?'

Harry thought for moment. This was highly unusual. Aside from asking him questions during class, Snape had never spoken to him. 'It's fine,' he finally replied.

'No trouble with the other students?'

Harry could detect no sense of emotion in Snape's icy drawling voice. 'Should there be?'

It was Snape turn to pause, but only for a moment. 'Very well. I expect three pages of parchment from you on the uses of the rhylin root in potions.' With those final words, Snape turned abruptly and strode into the back room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Three pages? The rest of the class only needed two pages. Snape was pushing him again, but why?

'Alright,' Harry said softly to himself. Playtime was over. It was time to do some research, and Harry knew exactly where to start. Pulling up the map of Hogwarts in his head, he left the classroom and dungeons behind.

Harry found what he was looking for on the third floor, across from the trophy room. Inside this room, decorating the walls like some strange mural was a list of every single student of Hogwarts down through the ages, sorted into years and houses. Harry began by scanning the nearest tiles, his eyes flickering over the names as he speedily read them all. He stopped when he found the name he was looking for – Severus Snape. Year 1971 to 1978. Slytherin.

Harry took a mental picture of the tablet, fixing the dates in his mind so that he could cross reference them with the school newspaper archive later. Satisfied he had all he needed, he went to leave, but out of the corner of his eye he caught something he had not anticipated - another name, further up the tablet in the Gryffindor column. James Potter. His eyes widened, then darted quickly over the rest of the Gryffindor section. Yes, there. Lily Evans. His mother.

Harry took a step back. So his parents had been in the same year as Severus Snape. That couldn't just be a coincidence. He had to check those old newspaper, and quickly. Luckily, the archive was open to all students of Hogwarts. He ran all the way to the library. Madam Pince shushed him when he arrived, but he ignored her and went straight to the archives.

Harry found the years he wanted and began to flick through the pages as fast as he could, looking for anything that might shed light on the mysterious Severus Snape. He spent the next few days scouring the records, but finding nothing of any importance regarding Snape.

Harry did, however, learn a lot about his parents. His mother Lily was top of her class nearly every year, well liked and respected amongst her peers. His father James was a top class Quidditch player, being a star Chaser and Seeker, depending on the teams needs. He also found lots of photographs of them, which he spent hours staring at, wondering.

Wondering, if they hadn't died, what his life might have been like. Where would they have lived? How would they have treated him? Would he be the same person he was now if they hadn't died? He found himself imagining another life for himself, until one day he realised he was wasting his actual life sitting at the table and staring at old photographs of dead people. He put the papers away and didn't come back. It was pointless to imagine. This was his life, and he had to live it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** This was going to be longer, but I like it as it is. Hope you do as well.

Loneliness

Hermione had a lot on her mind. Last week, she had come to the library to study and found Harry looking at old editions of the Hogwarts Gazette. She had frozen on the spot. Harry hadn't noticed her, even as he left the library. The look he had on his face, she had never seen that before. Not on him. It was such a resigned sadness that it broke her heart. She had wasted no time in going over to see what newspapers he had been looking at. When she saw, the broken pieces of her heart had shattered into a thousand more pieces.

Before this event, she had been debating something, going around in circles, her fear of contact and her longing for companionship battling each other. But after witnessing Harry's pain, she was finally able to make a decision. She was ready.

So here she was. Her chance had arrived. Across the library desk, Harry sat, scribbling away with his quill, his forehead scrunched up in concentration. Nervous butterflies roiled in her stomach, making her want to throw up, yet her determination was absolute. She was going to do it. Dry mouthed, she tore off a little bit of parchment and wrote one single word on it: _Hi_. Her hand was half extended when she froze. All she had to do was drop the little note. It was so simple, and yet so hard. Tears came to her eyes and she fought down a sob as her hand retracted and she slumped back in her seat, feeling ashamed and defeated.

Harry looked up, hearing her chair screech against the floor. She quickly ducked her head to hide her teary eyes. She glanced up through the curtain of her bushy hair and watched as confusion played out across his face. Eventually, he gave up and went back to work. She quickly rubbed her eyes with her free hand; the note crumpled up in her other. In her anger she had made a tight fist. Fingers shaking, she opened up the note and read the one, pathetic little word she had written. Why was it so hard? Why could other, normal people speak so easily to one another? Why couldn't she? Why was it so hard for her to even take this tiny little step towards communication? It wasn't fair.

Realising she was falling into a self-destructive downward spiral, she attempted to calm herself by taking slow, even breaths and counting in her head. One, two, three, four. The simple task, her go to mental exercise, helped her regain her calm and composure.

Hermione looked at the piece of paper in her hand, tracing the one word with her fingertips. This was her chance to finally connect, even if it was tenuous, with the boy who had done more for her than anyone. If she failed this, she would never have another chance. Her failure here would haunt her and destroy any other chances she might have down the line, a poisonous memory. She had to do this.

Hermione steeled herself this time, closed her eyes and counted to three. One. Two. Three. Then she, hand trembling, reached across the desk and dropped the note in front of Harry. She opened her eyes and peered at him sheepishly. He stopped what he was doing, his frown deepening. Finally, a small smile curled his lips, and he looked up at her.

'Hi.'

Hermione blushed, and then ducked her heard and scrawled a reply on her parchment: _Thank you for sitting with me_. This time it was easier to reach across the table and drop the note.

Harry read it, and then said, 'thank you for letting me.'

Hermione's cheeks felt so hot she feared they might explode. Her heart was pounding as she wrote another little message: _There's so much I want to say and ask_.

Harry smiled. 'We have all the time in the world.'

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She raised her hands to cover her face in an attempt to hide what felt like the world's brightest blush, but not just that. She was also hiding a huge smile. She wasn't used to the feeling. It kind of hurt, but in a good way. She kept her hands in front of her face until she felt like her blush had subsided and the smile had gone. When she took her hands away, Harry was still sat there, waiting patiently.

'You okay?'

Her hand flew across the parchment as she replied: _Very_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N**: Thanks for all the awesome reviews for the last chapter guys. Much appreciated. :D Hope you like this one as much.

Loneliness

Fawkes the Phoenix let out a squawk as Severus entered the Headmaster's Chambers. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, so the Potions Master approached the fiery bird and gave it a little pat. He had received a summons by way of Patronus, so he knew Dumbledore wouldn't keep him waiting long. Sure enough, the door leading into the headmaster's private chambers opened shortly and Dumbledore appeared, draped in sparkling blue robes and carrying a thick, worn looking book.

'Thank you for coming Severus,' Dumbledore said, as he slid the book back into its place on the bookshelf behind his desk.

'A little light reading while you waited?' Snape quipped, somewhat mockingly. He was still angry with the old wizard following the conversation they had, right here in this very room, the night Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts.

'Indeed.' Dumbledore ignored the scorn behind the words.

'You wanted to see me?'

Dumbledore seated himself at his desk. 'I trust you have been keeping tabs on Harry like I asked.'

'You didn't _ask_ anything,' Severus said, but took it no further than that. 'I have, however, been watching him very closely.'

'And what have you found?'

'He does not reveal much about himself. He is very guarded, especially for a child his age. I have found him to be quite intelligent though. He is quiet. Not a braggart, like his father, although he is very arrogant, his is a more subtle arrogance. He does not trust easily,' Snape turned to look straight at Dumbledore, 'which is understandable.'

Dumbledore titled his head ever so slightly, the only sign of his uneasiness. 'How so?'

'Do not think me a fool Dumbledore.'

'You used Legilimency on him,' Dumbledore said, matter of fact.

'You should have told me,' Snape said accusingly.

'And what would that have accomplished?'

Snape's emotions finally got the better of him and he exploded. 'Abuse is nothing to treat lightly! You sat back and did nothing while… while…'

'Harry,' Dumbledore said, 'his name is Harry. And I am well aware of what I did, or did not do.'

Snape took a deep breath. 'You promised me. You said he would be safe. You lied to me.'

'I did not,' Dumbledore protested. 'I had no reason to expect Harry would be treated so badly at the time, and you never asked, not once, how he was doing.'

'Save your justifications. You think he's a monster, and maybe you're right, but you're the one that left him with those… Muggles!' Snape spat out the last word. 'Who knows, if you had done something, we might not be in this situation!'

'Alas, we are.' Dumbledore held up his hands. 'Nothing I can say will erase what I have done. You may rant at me all night. I will sit and listen. Or we can move on and see if we can solve this problem.'

Snape sighed, and then turned his back to Dumbledore once again.

'Good,' the headmaster said. 'Did you perchance discover anything interesting when you used your Legilimency?'

'Like the fact that he's stealing from people?'

'I know. The boy is clever though. I had no real proof. I thought Veritaserum would be overdoing it at this stage.'

'Don't do anything,' Snape said. 'I don't want you anywhere near him. He's my student. I'll deal with it.'

'As you wish. Is there anything else?'

Snape thought about the one clear image he had gleaned from Harry Potter's mind – the mousy haired Muggleborn that had hit him like a stone the moment he had used Legilimency on the boy. He wasn't sure why the girl was of such interest to Potter, and as long as that was the case, he was certainly not going to tell Dumbledore about her.

And so, 'no,' he said, 'nothing.'


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N**: Thanks again for all the great reviews. Sure makes a guy feel appreciated. Consider this chapter a two-parter :P I'm going to get the second part out tomorrow night. Hope you guys like this one.

NANLIT: They're coming toward the end of November now.

Loneliness

Heads turned when Harry Potter sat down next to Hermione Granger. Not only was it unusual for two students from different houses to sit together, but also for those particular students. Harry - who was viewed as a self-made social pariah by every other house, even his own - and Hermione - whose crippling shyness had alienated her from everyone, by her own choice or not. Yet here they sat, two loners come together.

After taking in the spectacle, every head turned to the front of the classroom, to see how their Potions Master would react. Snape acted as if he hadn't noticed, though to be sure, he had. Whispers began, but before they could really get started, Snape cleared his throat and the room fell immediately silent.

Harry smiled at Hermione. She ducked her head and smiled in return. As Snape began his lecture, Harry took out a piece of parchment and wrote: _You okay?_ He slid it across to Hermione.

She read it quickly, and then replied with a quick flick of her quill. _Yeah_.

Harry drew a smiley face and then wrote: _People will talk. Ignore them._

Hermione knew that. She'd been preparing herself for it for weeks now. They had been talking like this in library, or rather, she had been writing, Harry had been speaking. The communication was a small thing, but day-by-day, it became easier, until she didn't even think about it anymore. It was so easy now; she couldn't believe how quickly she had become accustomed to it. The next step was this. Sitting together in class where the other people could see. In the library it was different. They sat right at the back where hardly anyone came, and the people that did come were serious students like themselves, and weren't the types to gossip. It was such an unusual feeling, this being the object of people's attention. Hermione normally went out of her way to make sure she wasn't such an object, and now here she was, surely the biggest object of interest in Hogwarts. Or she would be, once word spread. Thinking about it made her stomach all queasy.

_I feel sick_, she wrote, with a sad face.

Harry drew a sad face of his own. _Sorry. It'll pass though. You're stronger than you think. You'll be okay. I promise._

_Not your fault. I knew this would happen. And thank you._ Smiley face.

Hermione had been intending on asking Harry everything, asking him about the fires, about the rumours, about why he had taken such an interest in her. Yet after talking like this for weeks, she had yet to do so. Finally she realised she didn't want to speak of those things in this haphazard way. She wanted to save that for when she could finally speak to Harry. Yes, she was determined she would speak to him. He had made so much effort; she didn't want to let him down. And she desperately wanted to talk to him, to ask him all those things. But actually speaking was so much harder than writing little notes. She didn't feel quite ready for that, yet.

In the meantime, this message system would have to do.

Harry wrote: _Meet me outside your common room later? I want to show you something._

_Okay. Do you know were Ravenclaw Tower is? _

_Of course I do._ Harry drew a smiley with his tongue sticking out.

Hermione giggled, then slapped a hand over her mouth. Harry grinned. Everyone turned to stare. Hermione blushed and buried her head in her arms.

'Ahem,' Snape coughed. 'As fascinating as Miss Granger's little giggle is, she is not conducting this lesson!'

Heads turned back the right way, but Hermione kept hers hidden, horribly embarrassed. Harry couldn't stop smiling.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N**: Probably not what you all were expecting, but I hope you like none the less. Thanks for the reviews, as always.

Loneliness

When Hermione peeked her head outside the Ravenclaw common room, Harry was waiting, leaning up against the wall and fiddling with his wand. He was wearing a worn pair of jeans and a scruffy, un-tucked shirt that looked way to big for him. He gave her a lopsided smile as a greeting. Hermione crept outside and slowly, gently closed the door behind her. Feeling self-conscious, she smoothed down the front of the plain blue dress she was wearing, even though it didn't really need to be done, and then stood nervously tapping her sandaled left foot on the floor.

Harry gestured to her: shh, with a finger over his lips. Hermione blushed and stopped what she was doing. He beckoned and she followed slowly, anxiously looking around. They were out after hours, when students were supposed to be locked safely up inside their dormitories. This was the first time she had ever done anything she wasn't supposed to do. It was frightening.

Hermione had no idea where Harry was taking her, and so had already prepared a little note for him. She tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned to face her, she showed him the crumpled little piece of paper. He grinned and whispered, 'you'll see.'

Harry led the way through the silent corridors of Hogwarts. Every now and then he would stop, holding up a hand for her to do the same, and she would wait with him, wondering why they had stopped. Then he would give her a thumbs-up and they would continue their stealthy trek through the castle. She was dying to ask him why they kept stopping, but with no readily available parchment, she was rendered silent. Next time she would remember to bring something to write on, she vowed, then wondered at the fact she was already certain there would be a next time.

Finally, Harry ushered her through one final door, out onto the battlements of the castle. Hermione gasped. The view was magnificent - magnificent and terrifying. The wind howled, blowing her dress about her legs, slapping. She grabbed the nearest wall and clung on. Harry casually strolled out towards the edge, the only thing between him and a plummeting death being a tiny little brick wall. He was unafraid, his arms out at his sides, the shirt being picked up in the wind, his hair, already dishevelled, becoming a hurricane around him. He only became aware of her fear when he turned to grin at her, and saw her desperately hugging the wall, as far from the edge as possible.

'Hey, it's okay,' he said, walking back over to her, 'you don't have to cling to the wall like that.'

Hermione shook her head, a furious denial.

'You'll be fine,' Harry continued, trying to ease her fears. 'You won't fall or get blown away or anything. Trust me.' He smiled, taking a step back. 'Follow me. Come on. You can do it. Just look at my face.'

Hermione glanced over his shoulder, at the swirling abyss, and shuddered. She closed her eyes tight. Why had he brought her to this place?

'Hermione.' Harry was closer again. 'Listen to my. Ignore the wind. It's not here. It's just you and me. Look at me, not anywhere else. Come on. Open your eyes.'

Hermione cracked an eye open.

'That's it,' he said, 'now look at me. Let go of the wall.'

She did, legs trembling.

'Take a step. Just one. You can do it Hermione.'

And she did, slowly.

Harry grinned. 'Keep it up. One more step. That's it. And another. Keep going Hermione, you're going great.'

Before she knew it, Harry had taken her several steps away from the wall, not close to edge, but near enough that she felt the wind pulling at her. She tried to ignore it, like Harry said, pretending it wasn't here, it was just the two of them.

'Good Hermione,' Harry said reassuringly. 'Look, you're fine. You don't need to cling to the wall. Do you?'

Hermione shook her head, although she wasn't exactly comfortable standing out in the open. She knew it was irrational, but the fear that a sudden gust of wind would come along and blow her over the edge was all that she could think about.

'Look. This is what I wanted to show you. Look at the view Hermione. Isn't it amazing?'

Hermione made herself look. She tried her very best to ignore the wind and focus on the incredible view, and it was incredible. She couldn't deny it. The mountains, the great lake below them, the village of Hogsmeade twinkling like a thousand fairy lights. And the moon, partially hidden by the moody clouds. She couldn't fight the smile that took over her face, and suddenly the wind and the fall were forgotten.

'I come here nearly every night,' Harry said, 'just to look out at this. To remember that I wasn't always this free. My view from the locked ward of Waltham's was a grafiiti'd brick wall. But this – this is breathtaking. I just wanted to share it with you.'

Hermione turned to look at Harry. She desperately wanted to reach out and hold his hand. Instead she had to settle for a little smile, to show how touched she was that he would show her this.

'We can go back now if you want,' Harry offered.

Hermione shook her head no. She wasn't done enjoying the view, or the company.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N**: Hi guys, sorry for the absence. I went to stay with a friend for a few days (completely out of the blue). I'm back now, and going to get back to my usual schedule. Hope you like this one.

Alix33: Thanks for the really cool reviews. Glad you like. And thanks for pointing out those errors. I had noticed them myself after I'd already posted them, just haven't got around to fixing them yet.

Loneliness

Harry was silently fuming when he arrived at the Potion Master's office in the dungeons. His hands balled into fists, his heart beating in his chest, hard like a drum. He took a nervous breath, not liking the feeling of someone getting the better of him, and then knocked on the door.

When Snape opened the door, he said not a word, but simple ushered Harry inside with a gesture. Once insider, Snape closed the door behind him and wandered over to his desk, upon which Harry's stolen objects had been laid out in a neat row.

Harry kept his outward composure, not going to allow Snape the satisfaction of seeing his fear. He had been caught. Somehow. His curiosity about exactly how he had been caught was overridden by the fear of expulsion. The death white walls of Waltham's mental hospital was all he could see, closing in around him once again.

'You have nothing to say?' Snape said, his voice a quiet monotone, giving away nothing.

Harry locked eyes with his head of house. 'Am I going to be expelled?'

'How would you feel if I said yes?'

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'I won't play your games. Either I'm expelled or not.'

Snape's face was blank like stone. 'You don't fool me boy. I'm not like the rest of them. I can see beyond your façade. I know you're afraid. And you should be. I could have you expelled, and trust me, that would not be good for you.'

Harry clenched his teeth. 'So what?'

'So you need to give me something,' Snape said. 'A reason not to do that.'

Harry was silent. He didn't know what to say. Specifically, he didn't know what Snape wanted him to say. If he did, he would have said it within an instant, whatever it was, to keep him here and away from those white walls.

When Snape saw that nothing was forthcoming, he pointed to the stolen items and said, 'why did you do it?'

'I dunno,' Harry said, honestly.

Snape finally showed some sign of humanity and pursed his lips. 'You don't know?'

'That's what I said. I dunno. I just do it.'

'If I took these to the Headmaster, he will expel you.'

'I know.'

'I'm not going to do that.'

Harry was only mildly surprised. Snape was hard to read, but he sensed something from the wizard, some connection - possibly to his parents. Snape had some interest in him, and wouldn't allow him to be expelled. That being said, he had not been certain if this was the case, at least before now. Now, he considered it to be confirmed.

'Why?'

'I have my reasons,' Snape said. 'But you need to return these items to the people they belong to. You don't have to do it in person. Return them stealthily if you like. Just make sure you do. And after that is done, never steal again. I don't care what you need to do to stop yourself, just do it. It serves no purpose. It is a pointless act. A useless rebellion that is not needed anymore. Stop it. Understand?'

Harry nodded.

'Say it.'

'Yes. I understand.'

Snape magicked the stolen goods into a little brown sack and held it out to Harry. 'You may go.'

Harry took the bag and went to leave. Snape stopped him at the door with a few last words.

'The Dark Lord was fond of theft as well.'

Harry froze. His hand, reaching for the door handle, shook. He clenched it into a tight fist. A few moments passed, then he relaxed and left, slamming the door behind him.

Harry stormed carelessly through the castle on his way to return the items to his hiding place, from which Snape had stolen them at some point during the last few days. How dare Snape compare him to the murderer that took his parents from him? He was not like that monster. He wasn't!

'I'm not. I'm not. I'm not like him.'

Harry didn't realise he was crying.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N**: I love this chapter. Might just be my favourite yet. I hope you guys love it as well. Thanks for reading!

Loneliness

By the time Christmas rolled around, Harry had returned all of the stolen items to their rightful owners. He did it at night, one by one, sneaking through Hogwarts like a ghost. Snape graced him with an encouraging nod every now and then, as the items were reported to have magically reappeared. During the times the Headmaster graced the staff table, Harry felt the old wizards eyes upon him, and searching them, found only curiosity. Meaning: Snape had not told Dumbledore about their late night chat.

Hogwarts students were given the option of returning home for Christmas, which most of them took. Harry, however, did not have a home. He couldn't just return to the mental hospital for a week or so. It didn't work that way. Dumbledore had informed him, during their very first meeting, that if he chose to come to Hogwarts, he would be living there for the school year, and, unless Dumbledore could find some other arrangement, maybe even for his entire time at the magical school.

Christmas Day dawned cold and empty for Harry. He was alone in the Slytherin dormitory; in fact, he was the only Slytherin student still at Hogwarts. The common room was deserted as he made his way down in his scraggly football pyjamas. He sat in front of the dying fireplace, cross-legged, and stared into the flames. They flickered before him, tempting him with their burning beauty. He reached out a hand and felt the heat. His palm grew hot, but he didn't care. Harry felt an affinity with the flame. He always had. He closed his eyes and imagined it coming towards him, twisting around his palm, and when he opened his eyes the flame was there, twinning through his open fingers. He envisioned a snake made of fire and the flames took form, coiling on his palm and staring up at him.

'Hi,' Harry said, and the snake bobbed its head, almost a nod. 'My name's Harry.'

The snake did not reply.

'Can you speak?'

Nothing.

'Of course you can't,' Harry said, disappointed. He closed his hand around the flame and it vanished, extinguished.

'You only speak in my dreams.'

Harry spent the rest of the morning playing himself at Wizard Chess, each game resulting in stalemate. When he grew tired of that, he went up to his dormitory, got dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt, and then pulled his trunk out from under his bed. He unlocked the protective charms he had around it and opened the lid. Inside was a small fortune worth of books, and underneath that an old, cracked jewellery case, slightly charred on one side. He cradled the precious box in his hands, and then cracked it open, the joints creaking, stiff. Inside was a beautiful pearl necklace. He took it out, looked at it for a moment, and then put it in his pocket.

It was time for the Christmas Dinner, prepared for the few remaining staff and students at Hogwarts. Harry made his way there, and when he arrived, he quickly sought out his only friend. She was sat at the end of the table, nearest to the door, and furthest away from everyone else.

'Hi Hermione,' he said, taking the empty seat beside her.

Hermione had brought parchment with her in preparation. She wrote: _Hi Harry_, with a smiley face.

'Did you get a lot of presents?'

_A few. My dad sent them when I said I wanted to stay here for Christmas. Did you get anything?_

'No,' Harry said, and grimaced. 'Who'd send me presents?'

_Oh. I'm so sorry. _Sad face._ But_, here Hermione paused, and then scribbled, _I got you something_. She looked at him hopefully, as if fearing this might anger him. In fact, it did the opposite. Harry's heart felt warm. He grinned at her.

'I got you something as well,' Harry said, and then whispered, 'but let's not give them yet. I want to do it later. In private. Okay?'

Hermione wrote: _Okay_. Smiley face.

'Didn't your mum send you any presents?' Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head and looked down at her lap.

'Sorry. I shouldn't have asked.' Hermione had told him that her parents were divorced, but not much more than that. He knew it was a tricky subject though. He felt like kicking himself for bringing it up.

Hermione grabbed the parchment and quickly wrote: It's okay. _Don't feel bad. I wasn't expecting anything from her._

Harry slipped the parchment over and drew a little sketch of two people hugging. He passed it back to Hermione and she smiled a real smile. The smile lasted for less than two seconds, but Harry saw it. Every time he made her smile, he counted it as a huge victory. Hermione glanced over his shoulder, blushed, and looked down at her lap again. Harry turned in his seat to see what had made her retreat into her shell. The head of Gryffindor was watching them with a curious expression on her face. When the old witch noticed him looking, she gave him an odd little smile and then turned back to her conversation with the Headmaster.

'She's not looking now,' Harry said quietly.

Hermione glanced up, to make sure, and then straightened in her seat. _Why does everyone have to look at us?_

'They're curious,' Harry said. 'We're an odd couple.'

Hermione blushed when he said couple.

'I didn't mean it like that. I mean, we're friends. And it's odd. Because we don't make friends easy. So the two of us together is… you know. And I don't think anyone has seen us talk in that special way we do either. She might have been looking because of that.'

_I suppose so. _

Further conversation was cut short by the commencement of the Hogwarts Christmas Day meal. Dumbledore stood to say a few words, as was his custom, and then with a final word and flourish the food was magicked onto the long table and the feasting began. There was much laughter, loud conversation, crackers being pulled with loud bangs. Harry could see Hermione retreating further and further into her shell as the noise and merriment grew. It wasn't long before she had stopped eating or replying to him, and was simply just staring at her lap, as still as stone.

Harry finished his turkey, stuffing it all into his mouth with a helping of stuffing and swallowing it after only a few chews. It hurt going down, but he didn't care. He leant close, but not too close, to Hermione and said, 'let's get out of here. Come on.'

Harry stood and Hermione followed gratefully. Harry felt Dumbledore's eyes on their backs as they made to leave the Great Hall. One last glance as he left, Harry and Dumbledore locked eyes over the crowd. The old Headmaster gave a small nod of approval, and then the door swung shut between them, breaking their gaze.

Harry would have to ponder that little look and nod at a later date. Right now, he led Hermione down into the dungeons and straight to the Slytherin common room. The deserted house would make a great place to exchange presents. After saying the password, Harry motioned for Hermione to go first. She took uncertain steps into the common room.

'It's okay,' Harry said, 'nobody else is here. It's just you and me.'

Hermione looked around at the small green poufs and long sofas that interlocked the main floor of the Slytherin common room, at the snakelike lamps and motifs decorating the walls and ceiling. She chose a seat with a small table next to it and sat to write: _It's nice_.

Harry chuckled. 'Not really, but thanks.' He sat down on a pouf across from her. 'So, you got me a present?'

Hermione ducked her head and gave a little nod.

'Can I have it now?'

Hermione reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a rectangular box, wrapped in shiny green paper and tied with a silver bow. Harry took it with a smile. Felt it. Hefted it. Shook it.

Hermione scribbled a quick note and showed it to him: _Open it!_

Harry destroyed the paper with a few quick tears. Inside he found a book entitled: _Hogwarts, A History_, and a note. He read the note.

_Merry Christmas Harry. This was the first book I read when I found out I was a witch. I really liked it. I hope you do as well. And I know you want to know everything about Hogwarts. Maybe this book will help. _

Underneath that there were a few scribbles, much crossing out, and finally, at the bottom of the note, scrunched into what little space remained:

_Your friend, Hermione. _

'It's great,' Harry said, genuinely. 'Thank you.'

Hermione wrote_: You're welcome. It took me ages to write that last part._ _As you can see, I kept crossing it out. _She blushed as she admitted this_. Can I have my present now?_

'Why'd you keep crossing it out? We are friends.'

_I know. It just felt_, a pause as she struggled to find the correct word, _silly_.

'It's not silly,' Harry said.

Hermione drew a smiley face with a little halo and angel wings._ My present?_

Harry laughed and said, 'okay, okay.' He paused, hand in his pocket. 'I thought a long time about this. I want you to know how important this is to me. What I'm about to give to you, it belonged to my mum. I found it locked in a box in my aunt and uncles room when I was about five. There were a few other things in the box, but… this one… I want you to have it.'

Harry pulled out the pearl necklace and held it out to a gob-smacked Hermione. She blinked a few times, and then snatched up the quill and parchment and wrote quicker than ever before: _I can't! I can't take that!_

'Yes, you can. I want you to have it. Please. Don't say no.'

_Why?_

'Because… because when I'm around you… I'm happy. When I'm around you… I don't feel alone anymore. It's like I have a family. I just… want you to have it. Please.'

Hermione had tears in her eyes. She brushed them away with her hand, and then slowly stretched out her other hand to accept the gift. Harry gently let the pearls fall into her small hand. She sniffed and smiled.

'Put it on,' Harry said softly, tears in his eyes as well.

Hermione did. It was a little bit too big for her, the pearls hanging low on her chest, rather than hugging her neckline, but she would grow into them. She looked beautiful.

'Perfect,' Harry said, smiling. 'Thank you.'

Hermione scribbled: _Thank you Harry. What you said. I feel the same way. No one has ever tried so hard to be my friend before. I know I'm hard work. But thank you. Thank you so much for being so patient with me. _

'You're not hard work. You're you.'

Hermione spent the night in the Slytherin common room. She slept on the sofa. Harry slept on the floor below her. Sometime during the night, her hand slipped off the side and fell to touch Harry's chest. In their sleep, they both smiled, truly content for the first times in their lives.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N**: Had to write this quickly to get it out today. Hope I didn't make any mistakes. Point them out if you notice any and I'll correct them when I have the time. Enjoy.

Loneliness

Harry missed the quietness that had been the Slytherin common room during Christmas. Now that December had passed and the New Year had arrived, bringing with it the return of the rest of Hogwarts student body, he could no longer spend the day with Hermione. He treasured the memory of those few days, the time they had spent together, every second of every day, playing wizard chess, roaming the empty halls of the castle, sitting together at meal times, talking/writing.

Harry missed it all.

Now everything was shifting back to normal. They grabbed what time together they could, but after the closeness of those days, it just wasn't the same. Harry decided it was time to find a place they could call home together. Somewhere in Hogwarts that would be just theirs, where no one could interfere and no one could ever find them, even if they searched for days on end.

Harry was perusing the copy of Hogwarts: A History Hermione had gifted him with, sitting quietly in the corner of the Slytherin common room, minding his own business, when Draco Malfoy approached with his flanking cronies Crabbe and Goyle, two lumbering brutes that appeared not to have a brain between them.

'Hey Potter!' Malfoy called loudly, getting the attention of everyone in the room. 'How was your Christmas? Did your parents get you anything cool?'

Harry looked up at him over the rim of his book, anger boiling under the surface.

Malfoy mocked realisation. 'Oh, wait, sorry,' he said, and smirked, 'they're dead, aren't they.'

Laughter spread through the common room.

Harry casually put his book away on the side table and stood up so he was nose to nose with the always presentable Malfoy heir. The contrast was drastic, Harry in his scruffy, baggy clothes and his hair all raggedy and dishevelled, and Malfoy in his stylish shirt and trousers, with his perfectly slicked back silver locks.

'Malfoy, right?' Harry asked, his voice very low.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. 'Yeah…'

'Answer me something Malfoy,' Harry kept his voice quiet and even, 'do you know what they say about me?'

'What? That you burned down your families house or something?' Malfoy looked around, sharing a disdainful smile with the rest of the common room.

Harry smiled. 'Exactly.'

'So what?'

'So do you think it's a good idea to provoke me?'

Malfoy laughed. 'I'm not some defenceless idiotic Muggle, asleep in their bed at night!'

Harry laughed as well.

Malfoy looked confused.

'No,' Harry said, 'you're not an idiotic Muggle. You're just an idiot.'

Malfoy scowled, jumped back a step and pulled out his wand, pointing it in Harry's face. 'Say that again Potter!'

Harry smiled. 'Idiot,' he said, and clicked his fingers. The bottom of Malfoy robes caught fire. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then panic broke out. Malfoy started screaming like a girl, and Crabbe and Goyle looked stupidly at each other.

'Put it out, put it out, put it out!' Malfoy screamed, trying to bat at the bottom of his robes and hopping around like a lunatic.

Harry watched, smiling at the sight. Finally, seeing that no one was going to help the distressed Malfoy (as they were all too busy staring in shock – younger and older years alike), Harry pulled out his wand and muttered a quick spell. A torrent of water appeared as if from thin air above Malfoy, and then dropped down on him, drowning him and extinguishing the flames. Malfoy slipped and fell on his butt.

Everyone was silent as Harry walked up to the drenched, fearful first year Slytherin. He looked down on him. 'Next time you think you can bully me, remember the smell of your stupid ass being on fire, and think twice, okay Malfoy?' He went to grab his book from where he'd left it.

As he was leaving the common room, Malfoy regained his feet, face a twisted mask of hatred. 'You'll regret this Potter!'


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N**: Busy few days. Going to try and get more out hopefully tomorrow, if not Friday. Hope you enjoy.

Loneliness

So far, Harry had suffered no consequences after setting fire to Malfoy's robe, but then, it had only been two days since the event had taken place. The story had spread, as they do, and now most of Hogwarts had heard about it. Harry was expecting being dragged off to the Headmaster's office any day now.

Even Hermione had heard about it. She wasted no time in asking him about it during their next study session.

_Did you really set fire to that boys robe?_ She looked concerned as she scribbled out the quick question.

'Yup, I did,' Harry had no problem admitting it.

Hermione pursed her lips, and then wrote: _You shouldn't have done that_.

'Why?' Harry didn't wait for a response. 'Malfoy's a jerk. He was provoking me. I had to teach him a lesson.'

_So you set his robes on fire? Why didn't you just tell Professor Snape? I'm sure he would have taken care of it._ Hermione's brow was furrowed in consternation. Harry thought it was pretty cute.

'I don't need Snape to fight my battles for me. Besides, it wouldn't have worked. If I did that, they'd all think they could push me around and not have to suffer the consequences. I'm sorry, but I won't let anyone bully me.'

Hermione lowed her head in thought. Harry could tell she was worried about him, so he tried his best to appease her concern.

'It'll be okay,' he said. 'I'll probably get a slap on the wrist or something. No big deal.'

Hermione didn't look convinced. Her bottom lip was trembling as she wrote out a new message_: It's not just that Harry. He could have been seriously hurt. You can't just_, she paused, quill hand shaking_, burn things you don't like_.

Harry understood. She wasn't just talking about his actions against Malfoy. She was talking about the fire. Finally, _that_ topic was going to come up.

'I was wondering when you'd bring that up,' he said.

_I don't want to_, Hermione wrote. _I_, but she couldn't find the right words, and simply sat there, quill poised, tears forming in her eyes.

'Hermione,' Harry said, softly, 'I'm sorry. You're right. I probably shouldn't have set fire to Malfoy's robes. No matter how much he deserved it. Please don't be upset with me.'

Hermione wiped at her eyes. _Oka_y.

'Friends still?'

_Of course!_

Harry smiled. 'Hey,' he said, and winked, 'at least I put him out though right?'

Hermione ducked her head and smiled._ Not funny_, she wrote, but Harry could tell she didn't mean it.

There was a momentary silence. Then Harry said, slowly, 'do you want to talk about the fire?'

_No. Not yet. _

'Aren't you curious?'

_Yes, but I trust you. _

'Why? I mean, it's great that you do, but why do you trust me?'

_I don't know. I just do._

Harry nodded. Opened his mouth, then shook his head, grabbed the parchment, and wrote_: Thank you_, with a smiley face.

Hermione giggled.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews guys. Hope you like this one.

Loneliness

Sparkling green eyes looked up, pleadingly, from the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Her lips moved, but he could hear no words. He didn't need to. He knew what she was saying. Her expressive eyes told the whole story, as she begged for her son's life. The robed figure of her tormentor stood between them, blocking him, rendering him immobile and helpless. He reached out, crying silent tears, but his hands failed to reach her by what seemed like miles. The robed figure raised his hand, extended out towards her face, and in that moment she looked by her adversary and into his eyes. He saw his horror reflected in her emerald orbs. Her red hair appeared on fire, and it took him a few seconds to realise that it was actually a reality. Her head was on fire. He screamed but no sound emerged. He tried to shut his eyes as her face melted but couldn't. He was forced to watch as the woman he loved burnt alive, until her blackened corpse collapsed forwards and shattered into ash, borne away on the wind. He fell to his hands and knees and cried. When he finally raised his head, the black robed figure had turned, and was staring at him from under his hood, his face hidden, but his gaze felt. Pale, long fingered hands reached up to lower the hood, and that's when Severus Snape woke screaming in his bed.

He scrambled from his tangled, sweat soaked bed sheets and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom. He clutched at the sink with white knuckled hands as he ducked his head under the cold flowing water, gasping – the image of the face under the hood ingrained in his mind.

Severus tried to banish the face, but all he managed was to replace it with another equally terrible sight, of the woman he loved burning alive. 'Lily,' he rasped, shuddering, collapsing to the floor and hugging his knees.

Severus had suffered nightmares before, many of them dealing with the death of his beloved, but never one like that before. Normally his dreams consisted of her unforgettable eyes staring spitefully into his, unforgiving, before a flash of green light ironically took them away forever. Compared to this last nightmare, he would embrace the old ones. Those he could handle, knowing that he couldn't change the pat, knowing that he deserved them. This new nightmare, however, held such a terrible portent that it couldn't be ignored.

His mind was brought to recent events, specifically an event he had been putting off for days now. Albus had told him about it before the rumours reached him, about how Potter had set fire to Draco Malfoy's robe. He hadn't said anything other than that, but Snape knew what the old wizard wanted. He had claimed responsibility for Potter, and so he was expected to deal with the issue. The problem was, he didn't know what to do.

The news was incredibly unsettling, although not really surprising. It wasn't the first time Potter had shown signs of Pyromancy, an ancient form of magic that was incredible rare. So rare, Dumbledore assured him, that it hadn't been seen for millennia. Whether Potter held such an old power inside him, or had simply latched on to fire as a means of lashing out at those he felt had wronged him, Snape did not know. Either way, it was clear Potter liked to burn things. If his history were not proof enough, his recent attack on Malfoy would be.

Snape knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He needed to speak with Potter. He just wished he knew what he was going to say. Surely the boy needed to face some punishment, but that wasn't his major concern. How did he convince him not to go around setting other wizards on fire?

Snape seized the opportunity following the next Potions class, ordering Potter to stay behind afterwards. Judging from the look on the boys face, he had been expecting something like this for days now. Potter's girlfriend, the Muggleborn Hermione Granger, was the last to leave. She gave him a sympathetic look and then ducked out of the classroom.

Snape spread his hands on his desk and cleared his throat softly. 'You know why I asked you to stay behind?'

'Yeah.'

'You set fire to another students robe.'

'I did.' Potter showed little remorse.

'Do you think that was the right thing to do, in the situation?' Snape was actually curious.

'That's tough to say,' Potter answered cautiously. Snape gestured him to go on. 'Well, part of me says yes. Malfoy deserved it. He was provoking me. I had to show, not just him, but everyone in Slytherin, that they would not get away with doing stuff like that to me.'

'And?'

'And another part says maybe I went too far. I've been that I can't just burn things I don't like.'

Snape had to stop himself from smiling. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the person who had told Potter that was the quiet Muggleborn girl he liked to spend time with. The situation between the two of them was not unlike his old friendship with Lily.

'Wise words,' Snape said. 'You should heed them. If anything like this happens again, you will be expelled. Malfoy's father would have you gone now. Luckily for you, Headmaster Dumbledore will not be bullied either. He has ordered me to punish you, however.'

'Yes sir.'

'Detention. With me. For the rest of the year.'

Potter narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. After a moment, he nodded stiffly and said, 'yes sir. Is that all?'

Snape returned his stiff look. 'Yes. Report to me tomorrow at five o'clock for your first detention. Dismissed.'

Potter strode angrily from the room. He had not been expecting such a harsh punishment - that was for certain. In truth, Snape knew he had gone a little overboard, but he had his reasons. He wanted to keep a closer eye on Potter going forward. The final image from his nightmares haunted him. He could not escape the sight.

The sight of Harry's childish face grinning evilly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

Loneliness

'I understand the need to be punished, but don't you think he's going a little overboard with it?'

Harry hadn't been able to put it behind him for days now. Every time they met, he would go on and on about his punishment, unable to leave it alone. Hermione could sympathise. It was a harsh punishment. She too had been thinking a lot about Snape's motivations these last few days. It was unusual in the extreme for Snape to punish one of his own students so severely. The only conclusion she had reached was this, which she scrawled on a piece of parchment and showed to Harry:

_Maybe he's using the punishment as a way of getting closer to you?_

Harry read the words, then frowned thoughtfully.

Hermione wrote some more: _You did say he seems to have some sort of fascination with you. Possibly something to do with your parents? Maybe they were friends and he just wants to look out for you?_

Harry shook his head. 'No, that can't be it,' he replied. 'Snape was in Slytherin. My parents in Gryffindor. It's highly unlikely they were friends. And if they were, why not just tell me? Why be so shifty about it?'

_True_, Hermione wrote, _but he might have his reasons for wanting to keep it to himself. You're a Slytherin and we're still friends, right?_

'Yeah, but I'm different.'

_Maybe Professor Snape is different as well._

'It's al maybe. Maybe. Maybe.' Harry scowled. 'I hate not knowing. I don't get him. He hardly says anything to me, but I feel his eyes on me all the time, watching like a hawk.'

Hermione lowered her head, feeling sorry because she couldn't help Harry. He was her only friend and what good was she? She couldn't even put him at ease. She heard him sigh.

'Hey,' he said, and she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. He shook his head and forced a smile to his face.

Hermione could tell it was forced because his eyes remained full of hopeless anger – green pools of rage that she hated to see. When they were together, she hardly ever saw them, but when she had seem him on his own, or caught him in a moment of weakness, she had glimpsed the rage in him, and it frightened her. She wasn't afraid of him. She knew he would never hurt her. What she feared was what he might be capable of doing to other people. What darkness lurked inside him?

'I'm okay. Don't worry about me.'

_I can't help it_, Hermione wrote with shaky hands.

'I promise you Hermione. I'll be okay. I'll figure him out.'

Hermione nodded, not knowing what to say. She didn't doubt that Harry would figure everything out. He was so smart and tenacious. What he put his mind to, he accomplished. What she feared was that he wouldn't like what he found out, and what might happen if that was the case. There must be a good reason for Professor Snape to be so secretive, after all.

Hermione snatched up the parchment and scribbled, _promise me you'll come talk to me as soon as you figure it out? Promise me you won't do anything without talking to me first? _

Harry read. His face went blank as he realised just what Hermione had been thinking. He looked down, expressionlessly staring at the table, then looked up and spoke with no inflection. 'I promise.'

Hermione didn't know if she felt reassured or not.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

Loneliness

Harry stood alone in the blackened ruins. Ash floated in the air, drifted around him like little dust motes. The sky was dark and full of stars. When he moved, ashen objects gave way under him, breaking down underfoot. He knew if he reached out a hand to what remained of the wall, it would collapse in a similar way. Everything he touched turned to ash.

Behind him, the fiery snake slithered, it's forked tongue flickering and spitting sparks. It was large, much larger than him when it coiled itself upright, and its eyes were black with red pupils in its flaming skull. He didn't know its name, for when he asked, it never replied.

'_Sssseee_ how fragile they are,' the snake hissed, '_thessse_ pathetic _mugglessss _and their _ussslessss flesssh_. You feared them for no _reassssson_. You could have annihilated them with a blink. You burnt them in your _sssleep_ Harry. Burnt them like the maggots they are. _SSSSS_.' The snake made a sound, as if laughing.

Harry made his way into the living room of what used to be the Durlsey house. Nothing remained except ash and blackened, half collapsed walls. The fire had been so intense he had destroyed everything. His too big clothes were streaked with ash from where he had awakened in the ruins, buried under the remains.

Harry looked left and right, but could see nothing but blackness around him. The neighbours didn't exist here. Just like the police. In reality, they had arrived only moments after Harry had woken, to find him standing in the middle of the ruins, expressionless.

'Burn Harry. Buuuuurn. Destroy everything. Tear it down.'

'Why?' Harry whispered.

'_Becausssse_ you were made for iiiiit. _Itssss_ what you're good at. _Dessstruction issss _your calling.'

'What if I don't want to?'

The snake made the laughing sound again. 'You can't fight it Harry Potter. You will burn the world down. It _iss_ your _desssstiny_.'

Harry clenched his hands into tight fists. His eyes closed, he saw nothing but fire, flickering prettily. The flame was beautiful, but deadly. He knew he would wake soon. Wake to find nothing but ash.

_Harry, no!_ It wasn't a voice. It had no sound. It was a feeling. A feeling that resonated inside him. He gasped and woke up shuddering. His blanket was on fire. He kicked it off, grabbed his wand and quickly put it out. Then he collapsed back against his headboard and cried. His heart beat thunderously in his chest. He had nearly done it again. Nearly burnt down another "home". What was wrong with him?

Except this time it was different. He hadn't slept through it. He had been woken by something, giving him a chance to stop the fire before it spread. It was the not-words. The feeling.

Was it?

'Hermione?'


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

Loneliness

Harry wasn't sure what number detention this was. He'd lost track after the second week, and hadn't bothered counting since then. Instead he sat behind the desk, mindlessly copying out directions for potions from the book Snape had given him. It was mind numbingly boring, which was probably the point. From the front of the classroom, Snape hovered around one of his many, many potions cabinets, idly sorting stock. The Potions Master would occasionally glance in his direction, his eyes searching, but Harry always had his head down.

This was the routine these two stubborn individuals had adopted.

Until now, it had not been broken once. Each detention was the same. Harry arrived, collected the book left conveniently on Snape's desk, and returned to the exact same table every day to endlessly copy notes, head bent down for the duration. Not one word had been said between them after the first detention, except for when Snape would dismiss him, and Harry would leave, massaging his stiff neck.

Today was different. Today was the day Harry couldn't focus on the wrist aching notation, and finally snapped. It had been boiling slowly for weeks now, rising closer to the surface every day, and he couldn't take it any longer. Harry had to know what Snape was doing, why he kept watching him, why he had so severely punished him.

Harry stood, knocking his stool over, and slapped his quill down smartly on the table, making a loud thump and clatter in the dungeon room as the stool rolled backwards. 'What is your problem!?' The words burst out of him loudly, echoing. Snape froze with his back to Harry, tense.

'I'm talking to you,' Harry said; quiet now, assured that he had the older wizards attention. 'Do you think I'm blind? I see you watching me. All the time. You have something you want to say to me? Do you?'

Snape was silent.

'I know you were in the same year as my parents. Did you know them?'

At the mention of Harry's parents, Snape's back became even tenser, and he lowered his head as if under a giant weight.

'Talk to me!'

'Get out.' The words were so soft Harry wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

'What?'

'Get out!' This time Snape shouted, whirling around and gesturing emphatically towards the door.

Harry took a step back in surprise, his body tightening in anticipation of attack. When none seemed to come, he eased only slightly and stared right into Snape's narrowed eyes. 'No.'

Snape reached into his robe and grasped what Harry could only guess was his wand. 'Get out, now!'

Harry blinked, taking in the situation. Snape's threatening gesture seemed to indicate he was deathly serious about his words, but was he bluffing? Harry could not tell and didn't want to take the chance that the professor was. Decided, he sighed and grabbed his bag from under the desk.

'Fine,' he said, as he made his way towards the door.

'Do not come back.'

Harry paused at the door, surprised at those words, and at pain in the other wizard's voice. He glanced back to see that Snape had once again turned his back to him. Shaking his head in confusion, Harry left.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N: **This was quite hard to write, but I think it's the best I can do. Hope to have more chapters soon, as this story winds down now. If I can think of a good idea for a sequel, I'll probably write that some day.

Loneliness

Snape's breath misted the air in the cold dungeon as he sat contemplating Potter. The boy had been gone for over half an hour now, and yet still Snape sat at his desk, slumped over with head in hands. When Potter had mentioned his mother, he had lost control. He was aware that he had probably over reacted, but just the simple mention of her had pushed him over the edge. Potter was close to the truth if he had already connected him to his parents. How would he react when he found out that Snape, his Potions Master and Head of House, had been the one responsible for their deaths? For _her_ death…

The guilt still tore at Snape. His nightmares continued, a nightly punishment and reminder of how he had so spectacularly failed, of the wrong choices he had made. He knew he would never atone for that, yet he wanted so desperately to try. He had promised that he would protect her son, no matter what, in a vain attempt to somehow make up for it, not knowing how much of monumental task that would turn out to be.

Potter was on the edge of darkness, perhaps even inside it. Protecting him, keeping him safe, would require more work than just simply watching out for the boy. He would need to make sure the boy stayed on the side of light, and if he indeed did fall into darkness, he would have to somehow pull him out of it. Lily Evans' boy could not be allowed to turn into a new Dark Lord.

However, being near the boy was agonising to Snape. Looking into his eyes every day, seeing Lily reflected in them. Not to mention the hair that reminded him so strongly of the man who had taken Lily from him. His thoughts and feelings remained ever conflicted when he looked at the boy, with equal parts remorse and hatred. The boy himself, well, Snape could not help but be reminded of himself, and that alone provoked a need to protect and guide. If only he was not the son of hose two particular people that meant so much to Snape, in so different ways, it would have been easy.

Potter was not, however, and it was far from easy. Snape knew he had a decision to make. Potter had forced his hand today, and he could stall no longer. Either he banished the boy from his thoughts and forsook his promise, or he took the boy in completely, opened up to him and attempted to save him fro the darkness that surrounded him.

Snape sat in the dungeon classroom, pondering this decision all night long.

(-)

Harry paused outside Severus Snape's private chambers, filled with apprehension. He didn't know for sure what waited for him beyond this door, but he suspected he was about to learn the truth of the connection between Snape and his parents. Either that or suffer torture and eventual death under the wand of his Potions Master. It could go either way at this point, Harry thought wryly, and then raised his hand and knocked.

Snape opened the door himself, looking as weary as he had all day. Potions earlier had been a tedious affair, wherein the usual bat like swooping Snape had been replaced with a hunched figure moulded to his desk that didn't move or say anything except to give them introductions to copy from the textbook.

'Get in,' Snape said gruffly, and once Harry had done so, he shut the door with more force than was strictly necessary.

Harry took the time to take in the unfamiliar surroundings, noting the coldness of the room, boxed in with bare stone walls. Dimmed lights that flickered like candles, the gaping hole of an unlit fireplace, a large mahogany desk with curved snakes for legs, behind which loomed a book littered shelf, and a single black rug were the only notable objects within the room.

Snape crossed to his desk and flicked his wand at the fireplace, lighting it with a whoosh of flame. Harry stepped over to the dancing flames and welcomed the warmth and the comfort that he associated with the fire. He felt Snape's eyes on him, but waited for the older wizard to speak first.

After several silent moments, Snape said, 'aren't you wondering why I summoned you here?'

'I figured you wanted to tell me the truth about my parents, actually,' Harry replied, extending a hand to the flames, before turning his head to look at Snape. 'Why else would you have summoned me _here_.'

Snape kept his face calm, so Harry couldn't read him. 'Down to business then. Yes, I knew your… parents.'

Harry turned his whole body to face Snape, his attention wholly on the other wizard now. Finally, he was going to learn the truth. He almost couldn't believe it.

Snape sat behind his desk and leaned his head back into the high seat, his face pensive. Harry let him think, calmly watching.

'I knew your mother since we were children. We lived close by. I knew her before she even knew she was a witch. I watched her play with her friends, and I knew she was magical. Just by looking at her.' Snape cleared his throat. 'We became friends. At Hogwarts, we were separated by house loyalty, me to Slytherin, her Gryffindor. You know all about what that is like. Yet despite that separation, we attempted to maintain a friendship. For a while it worked, but then… we drifted apart. She met your father. Everything fell apart.'

Harry felt uncomfortable, watching as his professor buried his head in his hands. He had never seen the wizard display such emotion; try as he might to hide it.

'The Dark Lord killed your parents,' Snape said, his voice only slightly muffled by his hands. 'Now you stand before me, the embodiment of them both.'

Harry sensed he had just missed a huge chunk of the story, but before he could say anything, Snape raised his head and stared at Harry. 'I vowed the day Lily died that I would protect you. That is why I watch you. I watch you to protect you, from everyone who would use you, from people you know nothing about, and from yourself.'

'Myself?'

'We have a lot to discuss Potter,' Snape replied, 'and time enough for that. What you need to know now is that I am not a threat to you. See me for detention tomorrow.'

Harry sighed. Detention again? He'd almost been free of that.

'Go now.' Snape pointed to the door.

'But,' Harry said, needing to know more.

'Not now,' Snape cut him off. 'I know you must have many questions, but I cannot answer them now. You have my word that I will, but for now, be patient.'

Harry nodded. 'Fine. But I'll hold you to that promise.'

Snape shook his head, his normally impassive face curling in a smirk. 'Oh I have no doubt you will, Potter. Now go.'

Harry left, his mind filling up with more and more questions. Snape had barely told him anything he hadn't already concluded, yet he felt this meeting was more of an olive branch, a promise of more to come. He couldn't wait to find out the whole truth.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

Loneliness

Harry was still searching for a place he and Hermione could call theirs, a secret spot only for them, a home within Hogwarts. He had picked apart _Hogwarts: A History_ in the hopes that the book may hold some answer to this, but the only thing vaguely promising was the mention of a secret Chamber built by Salazar Slytherin named the Chamber of Secrets. Yet this was mere rumour and Harry had no idea if the place even existed, let alone how to find it. It was, however, his only lead, and so he attacked it with all of his wit and drive.

Harry and Hermione were sat at their usual spot at the back of the library, Hermione doing homework, Harry combing through all the books he could accumulate that even remotely dealt with Hogwarts and its grounds.

Hermione chewed absently on the end of her quill, reading back through the passage she had just finished to double check it. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry glaring at one of his books. Curious, she scratched out a quick message and held it out under his nose. Harry blinked, looked up in surprise, as if he had forgotten she was even present, and then took the note from her hand to read it.

_What's wrong? _

'Nothing,' Harry said dismissively, and went back to glaring at the book.

Hermione wrote another message quickly and again thrust it under his nose. _Why are you glaring at that poor book then? _

Harry's lips quirked at the poor book line. 'I'm looking for something.'

_What are you looking for?_

'Have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets?'

_Yeah, it's in Hogwarts: A History. Why are you looking for that Harry?_ Hermione looked worried all of a sudden.

'I think - if it really exists - it would be a good place for us to get some privacy.'

_Oh._

'You're surprised?'

Hermione paused with quill on paper, her expression thoughtful as she tried to find the right words. _How long have you been looking for a place like that?_

'Since Christmas,' Harry admitted.

Hermione turned her head, hiding a blush behind her hair. She wrote another message and pushed it across the table to Harry without looking. _Why?_

'Why?' Harry laughed. 'Why wouldn't I? Christmas was… perfect. I want that time back… don't you?'

Hermione felt her blush intensify. _I guess I never thought about it. I just assumed we couldn't have it back… do you really want it back? You really mean it?_

'Of course I do,' Harry said emphatically. 'I told you Hermione. You make me happy. Before I met you, I didn't know what that felt like. Not really. Now all I want is to spend ever second I can with you.'

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye.

'Hey,' Harry said, 'will you look at me?'

Hermione nodded and turned to face him. She smiled, her eyes wet with tears of happiness. Harry smiled back.

'I promise I will find a place for us here. Somewhere that's just ours. Whether it's the Chamber of Secrets or something else entirely. I'll find it. And we'll be able to spend as much time there together as we want. It'll be our home.'

Hermione bobbed her head, still smiling. She wrote, _I'll help_, and then reached for one of Harry's books.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** I will finish this eventually. Getting close now. Just a few more to go. Hope you like this one.

On another note, I have this other idea that has been butting its head in, but I'm trying to ignore it until I can finish this. So far so good.

Thanks so much for the support on this one guys. It really does make a guy feel appreciated.

Loneliness

Harry was back in that ever familiar surrounding, a time and a place he would never forget. He dreamt of it nearly every night, the night he had killed his only remaining family, and his life in the Muggle world had been changed forever. The burned down ruin of the Dursley household haunted him. The snake wasn't always present in the dream, but this night it was.

Sometimes nothing happened. He would try to talk to it, but would receive only cryptic, sinister responses. Other times the snake would talk to him, telling him all sorts of horrible things, and when he awoke, he would find the world around him burnt to ash, as he had that first night in the Dursley house.

Tonight, the snakes slithered around him, breaking through the ash and ruin with its flaming body. Tonight, the snake was talking to him, and this time, somehow, Harry knew what that meant. He could almost hear a voice in his head, except it wasn't a voice at all. It was more like writing, engraved on the inside of his skull, a familiar scrawl he had come to recognise as Hermione's.

It said: _Don't listen to it Harry. It's evil. It wants you to burn the world down, but you can't do that. You can't. You're not a bad person Harry. You're good. You don't want to destroy things. Please. You have to wake up._

'_Lisssten_ to me Harry,' the slithering snake hissed, coiling up in front of him. '_Lissten_ to me, and you _ssshall_ be a Lord. They will bow at your feet and _worssship_ you Harry. The _flamessss_ call to you Harry Potter. Embrace them!'

Harry closed his eyes_. Don't listen. The snake is evil Harry. Don't listen to it._

The snake hissed on, '_Buuuurrrrnnnnn!_'

Harry took a deep breath and opened his eyes to look at the snake. 'No,' he said, and the world went still. The crackling of the remaining flames vanished. The ash floating in the air stopped. 'I'm going to wake up now.'

Harry closed his eyes, focused on his desire, but when he opened them again, he was still in the dream. The snake laughed, an oddly human sound, but twisted and undoubtedly evil.

'You think you can escape me Harry Potter? You cannot. I am inside you. I am a part of you. My soul is your soul. Your soul is mine. We are one.'

Harry furiously tried to wake up, closing his eyes, opening them, and repeating a mantra inside his head: wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup. It didn't work.

'See. I can hold you here if I so desire. What's more, I can tap into that wonderful little skill you possess. You don't even understand your own power. But I do. I can control it. And I will. Right now.' The red slits in the snake's eyes glowed brighter. 'I will burn down Hogwarts in your name Harry Potter.'

'What are you?'

The snake laughed. 'Have you not figured it out yet Harry? I am your Lord. The Dark Lord Voldemort.'

Harry shook his head. 'That… how is that possible? You're dead! I killed you. They told me so.'

'Ah, but therein lies the problem. They. This they you speak of are nothing but a bunch of incompetent weaklings. To think a child could kill me. No, Harry Potter, I am not dead. Far from it. Not only do I live on inside of you, but also out there, in the real world, I assure you I am well and truly alive. And I will find you. When that time comes, you will die. But before then, you will suffer, as I kill every single person that gets in your path, using your affinity with the fire to extinguish them one at a time. You cannot run from me Harry. Now, it's a little chilly in here isn't it? Why don't we start a fire?'

Harry's eyes widened in panic, as even in his dream state he could feel the heat rising. He was on fire, and what's worse; he couldn't wake up to stop it. The snake form of Voldemort laughed as Harry closed his eyes tight in concentration.

Hermione's word floated in front of his eyes: _It's not working Harry. You can't wake up. He won't let you. You have to fight him. _

She was right. Harry opened his eyes and looked straight at the blazing snake in front of him. The snake cocked its head to the side with curiosity, noting the determined look upon his face. Harry felt it then, the hard and cool grip of his wand. He raised it and pointed it right at the snake.

Voldemort laughed again. 'Just what do you think you're going to do with that Harry Potter?'

'I guess we'll see,' Harry said, somehow knowing he was on the right track. He closed his eyes again, focused on his desire once more, this time not to escape, but to expel. The words appeared before him, scrawled in Hermione's handwriting: _Expelliarmus!_

Harry heard a scream, a long, drawn out wail of anguish, and then he woke up. His bed was on fire. Above him, on the ceiling, a green tinged skull with snake like eyes howled, its jaw seemingly unhinged, before burning up and vanishing with a whoosh. Harry blinked in shock. It was only then that he heard them.

The rest of his Slytherin bunkmates had become trapped by the flames, cut off by a wall of fire running between them and the door. Draco Malfoy, his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, and the rest of them huddled at the far back of the room, crying and shouting for help. Harry jumped up, the flames seemingly not affecting him at all (he didn't have time to marvel at this little titbit – yet) and reached for his wand. A giant jet of water doused the flames in a matter of moments.

Almost immediately, Harry felt relief flood through his body, and he dropped to his knees in his now soaked bedding.

'You're bloody crazy! You almost killed us all Potter! Just you wait 'til I tell my father. He'll have you expelled! You'll see!'

Harry glanced over at the furious young Malfoy, who had tears streaking down his terrified cheeks. He laughed, for the feeling of happiness, of release, was euphoric.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** Merry Christmas everyone. Hope you're all sad like me and are sat at your computers on Christmas Day so you can enjoy this new chapter (which came so easily to me, and which I really enjoyed writing) right now. :P

Loneliness

Immediately following his dream battle with the Dark Lord Voldemort, Harry and his Slytherin bunkmates were taken directly to the Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore, marched there by a half asleep, nervous and shaken Severus Snape.

The Head of Slytherin had been just drifting off to sleep when he had been woken by the portrait of Rolin Blackwood, a former Head of Slytherin, who reported a disturbance in the first year boys dormitory. Snape had felt an immediate sinking feeling, and his fear was confirmed when he arrived to see the charred damage of the fire Harry had started, and heard the loud commotion being made by a furious and red faced Draco Malfoy.

Snape had wasted no time in shutting the silver haired boy wizard up, and then demanded to know what had taken place, though he could surmise the events himself. Harry was silent, but Draco gladly filled him in, claiming that the Boy-Who-Lived (To-Burn-Down-His-Relatives, some added snidely) had tried to burn them all alive. Snape looked at Harry, who, he was dismayed to see, had a slightly smile on his face as he gazed off up at the ceiling, as if he was happy about the events that had taken place. Snape felt a lump in his throat form, and for the first time that night he wondered if tonight would be the night Dumbledore would give him the order. His year was almost up, and after tonight…

And so Snape had no choice but to take the boys up to the Headmaster, this mess being far out of his power to sort out, especially with Draco Malfoy's insistence that his father would be hearing all about this.

(-)

Inside the Headmaster's Chamber, Dumbledore sat behind his desk and listened as the tale was told first by Severus Snape, and then by Draco Malfoy. Harry still looked dazedly happy, a somewhat eerie expression given what had happened.

'And how was this fire extinguished?' Albus Dumbledore asked, once Draco Malfoy had finished his biased version of the events, which included such lies as Harry laughing maliciously and chasing them with fire.

Draco was unable to respond, having no way to answer this… except of course, the truth, which was not an option.

'Well Mr. Malfoy?' Dumbledore probed.

'Erm…'

'You have forgotten?'

'…I guess.'

'I put it out,' Harry said suddenly, as if waking from his happy trance.

Dumbledore looked calmly over at Harry, who now had control over his facial muscles, and was staring back at Dumbledore with a calm expression, which Snape did not share. 'You put it out?'

'Yes. With an Aguamenti Charm.'

Dumbledore did not blink at this little fact, despite that particular Charm being well out of reach for any normal first year. 'You have used the Aguamenti Charm before?'

'In a sense,' Harry replied honestly, remembering the time he had doused Draco Malfoy to put out his robe.

'He's lying!' Draco accused. 'He tried to kill us all!'

'Silence Malfoy,' Snape said loudly. 'You had your turn to speak. Now let Potter.'

'That's quite all right Severus, let the boy speak.'

Snape narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster, while Dumbledore looked at Draco again. 'You say that Harry is lying?'

Malfoy swallowed. 'Yes. He would have killed us, but _I_ used the Aguamenti Charm to stop him.'

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 'Ah, I see. Well, I think we can clear this up easily enough, don't you all?'

Snape, whose panic had been rising, felt himself relax, knowing exactly what Dumbledore would suggest, and feeling that it would reveal Harry as the truth-teller.

'A test, to prove the truth of it all,' Dumbledore said. 'Your wands boys.'

'What do you want that for?' Draco asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

'To test it, of course.'

Harry looked at Snape, who nodded, and so he stepped forward and handed his wand over to Dumbledore. Malfoy followed, now looking very apprehensive. Dumbledore went with Draco's wand first, and after mumbling a quiet Prior Incantato, frowned. 'Hmm.' Then he repeated the procedure with Harry's, and a small smile appeared on his face. 'Well, I think that settles it. Mr. Malfoy, would you like to change your story at all?'

Malfoy swallowed even louder, going red in the face, fumbling for words. 'Ah… erm… I…'

'I know,' Dumbledore said, 'you lied. Tell me the truth and your punishment will be less severe.'

Draco hung his head. '…I don't know what happened. I woke up and everything was on fire. We couldn't get out. He… Potter was lying in his bed… and it was on fire… all around him… but he wasn't hurt by it.' Malfoy looked up. 'He's a freak! He nearly killed us all.'

'But then he woke up, and put out the fire, correct?'

Malfoy nodded. Dumbledore handed him back his wand.

'Professor Snape and I will discuss your punishment and let you know tomorrow. You may go Mr. Malfoy,' Dumbledore said, 'and the rest of you too, except for you Harry. Severus, please escort them back, then return here.'

Snape paused, still worried, but at a nod from the Headmaster he did as he was bade and led the rest of the Slytherin boys out of the room.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, long and hard, before he spoke. 'Take a seat Harry.'

Harry thought about it, and then sat down slowly. Dumbledore held up Harry's wand, which he still possessed, and examined it. 'An Aguamenti Charm is quite complex for a first year Harry, and yet the evidence is right before my eyes. Remarkable. You seem to have an affinity with elements… or perhaps, you're just an incredibly talented individual. Which is it, do you think?'

Harry shrugged.

'Yes, perhaps it is hard to tell. Have you tried to conjure other elements? Wind? Ice?'

'Not really,' Harry said. 'I've read a lot about spells and charms though.'

'You read often?'

'All the time… with my friend Hermione.'

'Ah yes,' Dumbledore said with a smile, 'your friend is a unique and talented witch. I have high hopes for her.'

Harry said nothing to this, preferring to keep things close to the chest for now. Headmaster Dumbledore was an unknown to him, and he did not feel comfortable revealing too much, without Professor Snape to guide him.

'Would you like to tell me what happened tonight?'

'You already know.'

'Yes, but I think perhaps there is more to the story?'

Harry pursed his lips in thought. How much could he reveal? He was still reeling from the revelation himself, and from the euphoria he felt, now that the part of Voldemort that lived inside of him had been expelled.

'I… I can't control it… when I'm sleeping… sometimes it happens… but I woke up this time and I didn't want to hurt anyone, so I put the fire out…'

Dumbledore nodded slowly. 'I see. Could you be more specific?'

'What do you want to know?'

'What exactly can't you control?'

'I don't know,' Harry said honestly, for he didn't have a clue why he was attracted to fire. Voldemort had hinted at it… what was it the snake said…?

_I can tap into that wonderful little skill you possess. You don't even understand your own power. But I do. I can control it. _

So this skill must be the ability to control fire… or maybe elements, as Dumbledore had proposed earlier? He had so much to ponder himself, so how was he supposed to answer Dumbledore's questions when even he didn't know for sure?

'You've had a long night,' the Headmaster said kindly, 'I understand. Severus will be back soon. He will arrange a place for you to sleep; as I think it best we keep you and Mr. Malfoy apart for now. We will meet again soon to discuss things when you're rested.'

Not long after, Professor Snape returned, and Harry was glad to leave the Headmaster behind. Snape took him back to his own apartment within the castle, where he conjured a bed, sheets and pillow.

Snape and Harry stood rather uncomfortably by the bed for a moment, each unsure how to proceed. Finally, Snape uttered a gruff, 'good night Potter,' and went to leave the room.

Harry stopped him at the door, 'do you trust Headmaster Dumbledore?'

Snape paused with his back to Harry. He thought for a long minute. 'Professor Dumbledore is a great wizard, and great wizards are always looked to as leading figures in the wizarding world. He has to make a lot of hard decisions, which may make him seem cold at times. He… cares greatly for the wizarding world, and will do what he believes best for it.'

Harry pondered those words. 'I understand. Good night Professor.'

Snape turned his head to the side, gave a jerky nod, and then left. Harry climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. He thought of everything that had happened that night. The dream, the wakening, the green smoky skull on the ceiling, the fire, the conversation with Dumbledore and brief moment with Snape. It was all too much, and made his head hurt, so he put them aside and focused on the good things.

Hermione's face floated into his head, her smile that made her cheeks dimple, her soft laughter, and the way her hands moved as she scribble on parchment. He fell asleep thinking of her, and dreamt, for the first time in ten years, of something other than a burning wreckage and a snake. He dreamt of her.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** Sorry for any mistakes I may have made. I typed this up quite fast, and although I have proof read it, I sometimes miss things. Hope you guys enjoy this. Only a few more chapters left.

Loneliness

When Harry woke in the morning, he found Professor Snape sat, fully dressed in his long black robes, at a long table filled with all kinds of breakfast foods, similar to those found within the Great Hall, only much smaller.

Harry walked over, still dressed in his pyjamas and rubbing his eyes, and sat down across from his Head of House silently. There was so much breakfast food scattered on the table that he had no idea were to start, from golden brown toast to heaps of crispy bacon.

Harry finally decided on a combination of three, those being toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon, loaded all together between two slices of toast. As he took a bite, his eyes glanced up for the first time to see Snape watching him.

'What happened last night?' Snape asked, not bothering with a greeting of any kind.

Harry chewed and thought, before swallowing. 'My whole life, at least for as long as I can remember, I've had these dreams. In the dream, there's this snake, made up of fire, and it talks to me. And sometimes, when I have this dream, when I wake up, there's been a fire. It happened at my aunt and uncles. At the foster homes the Muggles put me into.'

Harry took another bite before continuing.

'At the hospital, I was sedated, and didn't dream, but since coming here, I've been having them again. I had the dream last night, but this time, I understood what was going to happen. That never happened before. I knew if I didn't wake up, everything would be ash when I woke. So I tried to wake up, but the snake wouldn't let me. It taunted me and said it could control my power. It said it wouldn't let me wake up. Suddenly I felt my wand in my hand, and I knew what to do, so I did. I cast a spell… I can't remember what it was… and then I woke up. There was a flaming green skull burning on the ceiling in front of me… at least for a few seconds…'

'Then what?' Snape prompted, his expression carefully blank.

'You know the rest,' Harry said, but answered anyway. 'My bed was on fire, and there was a streak of flames cutting Malfoy and those lot off from the door. I put them both out.'

Snape sat back thoughtfully. 'The snake spoke to you?'

Harry nodded.

'Did it have a name?'

Harry chewed his next bite slowly. 'It… I used to ask in the dream, all the time, but it never answered me… until last night. It said it's name was Voldemort.'

Snape pinched his lips. 'You should not say the Dark Lord's name.'

'Why?'

'Because he can find you, if you do.'

Harry nodded. 'So he is still alive…'

'What makes you say that?'

'The snake said so.'

Snape tensed. 'What, exactly, did the snake say?'

Harry shrugged. 'I'm not sure, exactly. Something about being inside me, but outside as well.'

Snape closed his eyes, his hands, which now gripped the table, tight and white.

'You didn't know?'

Snape sighed. 'Not for certain. And if he is alive out there… he is weak.'

'How do you know that?' Harry asked, very curious, and suspicious, now.

Snape waved it off. 'You have given me much to contemplate. Finish your breakfast, and then go get ready for class. I must speak with the Headmaster.'

'Hey,' Harry said, but Snape was already on his way, and then out the door, slamming it behind him.

Harry stuffed the rest of the food into his mouth on his way to the door, but when he opened it and peered out into the hallway, Snape was gone. Even more questions filled his mind now, on top of those he had put out of his mind last night, chiefly among them… how did Snape know Voldemort was weak?


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

Loneliness

Harry very nearly bumped into Hermione outside their first shared lesson of the day, that being Defence Against the Dark Arts. She appeared suddenly before him, her eyes wide and full of questions, and he had to pull up quickly before he ran straight over her, he was walking so fast, also eager to see her and talk (albeit in the limited manner they could). From her expression he knew that she must have heard all about the events of the previous night, so he held up his hands and smiled to show that everything was okay. She seemed little relieved, or maybe just curious to hear his version of events, so after pointing over her shoulder, to which she discovered they had an audience of also curious students, he led her out of the way around the corner so they could speak privately - rather, he could speak privately.

'I'm okay,' Harry said. 'No one got hurt.'

Hermione held up her hands in a gesture that clearly said, _so what happened?_

Harry bit his lip in thought. 'You never asked me about the fires before. Do you really want to know now?'

Hermione lowered her head –ashamed that she had asked? Or just considering? Harry could not tell.

'I'll tell you if you really want to know, but… I liked that you never had to ask before… that you trusted me… that no matter what the reason was, you believed in me.'

Hermione kept her head down, but nodded. Harry didn't know quite how to take that.

'Just… last night, it was bad, but… because of you, I think I've finally got through it. I don't think I need to ever worry about the fires again.'

Hermione looked up at him, glancing through her eyelashes, a faint smile on her face. She pointed at herself. _Because of me?_

Harry nodded, smiling back. 'It was almost like I heard your voice in my head, guiding me through it, and helping me.'

Hermione looked confused.

'Almost,' Harry said, laughing. 'I didn't actually _hear_ your voice. More like see your handwriting. It's hard to describe. But I've never felt more free in all my life. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.'

Hermione held up a hand, outstretched only a little, as if she was considering reaching out and grasping his hand, but she faltered, and then let it drop. Instead she pointed back the way they had come. _We better get back to class._

'Yeah, I guess we should get back.'

Hermione nodded and led the way. Harry followed behind her, looking at the hand she had almost touched him with, watching it sway ever so slightly by her side. He felt an ache in his heart - a bittersweet feeling. He knew she wanted to touch him, yet she didn't quite have the courage yet. Would she ever? He hoped so, because he desperately wanted to touch her.

To hold her hand.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** Only a few chapters left for this story. Two, not counting this one, actually. I don't know why some people seemed to be expecting a battle scene or something like that in the story. Sorry to disappoint you. The only battle in this story was the one taking place within Harry, which has now been resolved. That said, I hope you guys like this, and just FYI, I've posted a teaser/prologue for my next Harry Potter fic (not a sequel, but another idea that sprung into my head recently – although I do have an idea for a sequel to this also, which I won't go into now) after this one. I'd really appreciate it if you'd go and check it out and let me know what you think. It's called An Unconventional Affair. Thanks guys.

Loneliness

'You wished to see me Severus?' Dumbledore asked, entering his office from the door leading up to his private chambers. Snape was waiting in his usual spot by the fire, which lay dead for now.

'I did,' Snape said, turning to face the other wizard. 'I spoke with Potter this morning.'

'Indeed,' Dumbledore interrupted, 'as I did last night. Harry is very guarded. He did not tell me much, and I could tell he was uncomfortable with my line of questioning. However, he seemed sincere, as far as I could discern, when he spoke of not wanting to hurt anyone.'

'You questioned him?' Snape asked, sounding rather irate.

'Calm down, Severus,' Dumbledore said soothingly. 'It was hardly an interrogation. A few simple, harmless questions.'

Snape took a breath to relax.

'What did you wish to see me about?' Dumbledore probed.

'It would seem that a part of the Dark Lord has been living inside Potter, right under our noses, this whole time.'

Dumbledore clutched at the back of his chair and lowered his head. He sighed. 'I see.'

'Potter told me that ever since he could remember, he has had dreams, in which a snake, made of fire, talked to him. And he said, that sometimes, after having those dreams, he would wake up and everything would be on fire. Last night, he snake revealed itself to him, and claimed to be the Dark Lord. '

Dumbledore, still griping the chair, manoeuvred himself into the seat. 'This is disturbing news indeed.'

'What's more, Potter said the snake claimed to live both inside, and outside him.' Snape touched his arm, where Voldemort had branded him, almost unconsciously. 'The Dark Lord, however weak he may be, lingers in our world still.'

'As we feared.'

There was a moment of silent as both figures pondered this news.

'But, Albus, how can a part of the Dark Lord live within Potter?'

'I have a theory, but I would not care to share it yet,' Dumbledore answered. 'I must look into some things first. Is that all?'

Snape pursed his lips when Dumbledore refused to share his theory. 'There was one more thing he said. Something about a flaming green skull burning on the ceiling when he awoke. What do you suppose that means?'

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. 'It could mean many things. Perhaps Harry expelled the part of Voldemort that lived inside him? Though, we do not have enough information to confirm this.'

'That was my thought also,' Snape agreed.

'I will look into it. Thank you for bringing this news to me.' Dumbledore gestured to the door, a signal that this meeting was over.

Snape walked to the door, but stopped before it. 'The year is nearly over,' he said. 'Have you made your decision regarding Potter and his fate?'

'I am undecided. Despite my misgivings, the boy does show some promise. I assume you still think Harry should be spared?'

'I do,' Snape said firmly.

Dumbledore tapped his fingers on the table. 'Very well. Let us hope we do not regret this decision.'

'The boy will live?' Snape seemed surprised.

'The boy will live,' Dumbledore confirmed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

Loneliness

The night found Harry and Hermione upon the Hogwarts battlements. Harry stood by the barrier, looking out at the view, while Hermione sat leaning against the wall with her robes pulled tight around her, arms around her legs and her head resting on her knees, watching him.

Harry looked back at her, over his shoulder, catching her gaze upon him. Hermione blushed, embarrassed at being caught staring, and hid her head in her knees. Smiling, Harry walked over and sat down next to her.

'Are you cold?' he asked softly.

Hermione shook her head, still hiding her red face from him.

'Hey,' he said, 'look at me.'

Hermione glanced up ever so slightly. Harry continued to smile, trying to soften her embarrassment.

'You are so cute, do you know that?'

If possible, Hermione went even redder, and hid her face again. Harry shook his head, laughing a little. His smile dropped a little as his mind drifted back to his time in the hospital, to someone he hadn't thought of for some time now.

'I used to know someone like you, you know?' He paused, long enough for Hermione to peek at him again. She looked surprised and curious. 'She was a patient at the same… hospital as me. She was mute, like you. But she was worse. She didn't talk, at all, or make any kind of attempt to communicate. She just sat wherever they put her, and if someone tried to touch her she screamed. They had to sedate her just to move her. She wouldn't talk, but she'd rock back and forth and moan sometimes. Her name was Alice…'

Harry stopped, closing his eyes. Hermione waited patiently for him to go on.

'When I got there, she was already there. I started sitting with her, because no one else would. Sometimes I'd talk to her, but I think she preferred it when I was silent like her.' Harry smiled. 'She seemed better when I was with her though. She didn't rock and moan then. She just sat quietly. She never smiled or showed any kind of emotion, so I don't really know for certain. But I thought she liked me to sit with her…'

Hermione pulled out a little bit of parchment she'd brought for this occasion and wrote a small note: _That's nice_.

'You remind me a little of her,' Harry said. 'I mean, you're not the same. Not by a long way. But… well, you know. You're similar.'

_I understand_, Hermione wrote.

'I liked her, but we could never have any kind of real relationship.' Harry looked at Hermione, meeting her eyes. Normally she would turn away, but his gaze froze her and she couldn't, didn't want to look away. 'Not like you and me. You've come so far, Hermione. And you'll come further. I know you will. And I'll be here the whole time.'

Hermione felt her heart thumping in her chest.

'You understand loneliness… like me… how it eats at you, like a black pit inside your heart. No one else can understand. They've never been alone… not like you and me. We're the same in so many ways. I never had anyone. My aunt and uncle, they weren't nice people. They kept me locked in a cupboard under the stairs. That was my bedroom, until I woke up and the house had burnt down. After that, I was truly alone, until I came here and met you. And you… you know that it's like. Maybe you had your parents, but not really. They can't understand you… they might pretend to understand, but really, they don't. I won't lie and pretend I understand fully, how you feel, what its like to be you. But I understand the loneliness. How it hurts.'

Hermione had tears in her eyes, which she hastily wiped away. She grabbed her parchment and wrote: _It doesn't hurt anymore._

Harry smiled. 'We're not alone anymore. We have each other. Forever.'

Hermione smiled. _Forever_, she wrote.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. should just put a blanket disclaimer on the site for all the idiots that could possibly believe we actually own these stories or make any kind of a profit.

**A/N:** Just an FYI, to the person who commented on Hermione not being able to do magic if she can't speak. Physically, she can speak. It's a mental block that prevents her from speaking to people that is the problem, so she can practice magic in private without a problem. In other news, this is the last chapter for this particular story. I have an idea for a sequel, but if I do write it, I won't be writing it for a while yet. I want to focus on An Unconventional Affair for now. Hope you guys like this one. Thanks for reading and to everyone who reviewed.

Loneliness

There was a flurry of activity as the students of Hogwarts boarded the train that would take them home. Prefects and Professors directed traffic, making sure no one got trampled. The sun shone down brightly on the proceedings, glinting off the top of the train.

Off to the side, Harry and Hermione stood together, watching the ordered chaos. Hermione had her trunk with her, but Harry had left his at the castle. He would not be going home on the train, for he had no home to go to. Instead he would be staying at Hogwarts for the summer, which he was more than happy about. Anything was better than returning to the Hospital, even sleeping on the streets of Hogsmeade.

Harry and Hermione stood and watched; time slowly trickling forward to the moment when they would have to part. Neither wanted the other to go, but it was an inevitability they had accepted.

Finally, as the last few students made their way onto the train, Harry turned to Hermione. 'I guess you need to get on the train now…'

Hermione nodded sadly. Tears tickled her eyes. Harry saw them and felt his heart ache. He desperately wanted her to stay with him, but knew it wasn't possible. So he decided to do his best to cheer her up.

'We'll see each other soon. A few short weeks. Then we'll be back together again. By that time, I'm sure I'll have found the Chamber of Secrets. And then we can be together for nearly a whole year. Just us.'

Hermione nodded again, firmed her face and forced a smile.

Harry was silent for a moment, before he met her gaze. 'I want you to remember something, okay? Every night, when you go to sleep, I want you to remember this. I love you, Hermione.'

Hermione ducked her head, cheeks flaming to life, but only for a moment. She looked back up within seconds and met Harry's waiting eyes. She pointed to her heart, then to his. I love you too, it said.

'You love me too?'

Hermione nodded.

Harry smiled. 'I'll remember that every night as well.'

Professor Snape appeared before them. 'You need to get on the train now, Miss Granger.'

Hermione nodded one last time. She grabbed her trunk and started to walk away. Harry watched her go silently, Snape standing by his side. Hermione made it all the way to the train before she froze on the spot. Instead of going up the steps and boarding the train, she instead dropped her trunk and rushed back to Harry. She stopped before him and looked him in the eye, blushing mightily. Then she reached out, quickly, and took his hand. She squeezed it once, as hard as she could. Harry grinned and squeezed back.

They stood like that for a few seconds, holding hands, before finally Hermione let go.

'See you soon, Hermione,' Harry said.

Hermione smiled, then rushed back to her trunk and boarded the train.

Harry and Snape stood on the platform until the train departed, disappearing behind the mountains.

'So, Potter,' Snape said, 'how do you fancy coming to live with me?'


End file.
